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HXHelleele^ llua^asine 


The Recent Strikes and the Labob Question 

in the Coal Regions of Pennsylvania, Emily Johnson .... 153 

A Pbofessoe of Schisms Isabella Howe Fiske, '96 . . 159 

"Memoby" R. C. ...... 162 

"Whebe Ignobance is Bliss" . . . Anna E. Wolf son .... 162 

Episodes of the Holidays 168 

To the New Tea b Josephine A. Cass, B.A., 1880 . 170 

Miss Tiltjby Jeannetle A. Marks . . . 171 

By Faib Means 176 

Jottings G. L. C. 184 

Editobials 187 

Fbee Pbess ■ . 189 

Exchanges 190 

Book and Magazine Notes 195 

College Notes 197 

Society Notes 19S 

Alumnae Notes 200 

Mabeiages 209 

Bieths 210 

Deaths 210 

idol 01.— January 1898 — mo. 4, 

Entered in the Post-Office at Wellesley, Mass., as second-class matter. 

Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2013 





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The Wellesley Magazine. 

Vol. VI. WELLES LEY, JANUARY 22, 1898. No. 4. 




EVA G. POTTER. '98. 




The Welleslet Magazine is published monthly, from October to June, by a board of editors 
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Dueixg the last week of the year just closed, the newspapers of this 
country have announced, in paragraphs of three or four lines, the renewal of 
the coal miners' strike at Honeybrook, in eastern Pennsylvania. This new 
outbreak may amount to nothing, may be almost forgotten in a month : or, 
on the other hand, it may be the signal for such a straggle as that which four 
months ago led up to the shooting of seventeen rioters by a sheriff's posse 
near this same hamlet of Honeybrook. In either case it is very significant 
as showing that the settlement of their difficulties, made in panic haste by 
masters and men after the Lattimer shooting, is, in fact, no settlement at all. 
The permanent causes of trouble evidently have not been reached. 


The eastern or anthracite coal field of Pennsylvania lies mainly within 
Luzerne County, and is divided by the geological and topographical features 
of the country into two distinct districts. The upper field consists of the 
broad and fertile basins of the Lackawanna and Wyoming valleys, and 
extends to a varying width from between their parallel mountain walls into 
the rugged country to the eastward. The lower district, of which Hazleton 
is the chief town, lies along the narrow valley of the Lehigh River, in half 
a dozen small mountain valleys and basins near, and even in, the high moun- 
tains themselves, being in general ragged and uncertain in outline, but lying 
northeast and southwest with the trend of the mountain ranges. In this 
lower district the valleys are all narrow, and the heights precipitous, and the 
crumpling and folding of the strata is everywhere extreme ; so that the gen- 
eral physical conditions governing mining in the lower field are unlike those 
obtained in the Wyoming and Lackawanna district.. 

In the upper district the situation is doubly complicated, although the 
relations of employers and employed are here less immediately threatening. 
The surface of the greater part of this region is wonderfully fertile and 
abundantly watered, so that from Revolutionary times the land has been 
owned in holdings suited to agriculture on the old-fashioned scale. Such 
division has had the effect of distributing the mineral wealth of the territory 
amons; a much greater number of owners than is the case in the Hazleton 
field. Moreover, because of the comparatively small acreage held by any 
one man at the time when anthracite coal began to have a market value, the 
business of mining coal has always been regarded here less as a matter of 
developing one's own property to its fullest value than as a pure speculation 
dependent very largely upon the terms of leases made with neighboring coal- 
owners for its success. Several large corporations, it is true, such as the 
Pennsylvania Coal Co., the Delaware and Hudson Coal Co., the Lehigh Val- 
ley Coal Co., and the Delaware, Lackawauna & Western Railroad Co., have 
bought up from the original owners large tracts which they mine on very 
much the same system as that existing in the lower district ; but the greater 
part of the mining done in this region is carried on by minor companies or 
by individuals, who are content with less business and smaller returns than 
would suffice to pay the running expenses of a larger concern. The ten- 
dency to small operations has indeed gone so far as to result in a positive 


over-exploiting of the available coal land. More capital has already been 
invested than is economically profitable, if one consider the probable returns 
of the next decade ; and investments are continually being multiplied within 
a small area. 

As to the laboring men dependent upon the mining companies, two gen- 
eral observations are to be made : they are, all in all, of a far better class 
than the laborers of the lower district ; and they are offering their labor at a 
less and less price in a constantly over-supplied market. The multitude of 
small collieries has given employment to a larger number of men than their 
joint output justifies in the competition with the producers of the Hazleton 
and other coal fields. Hence wages are low, and the uncertain profits of the 
masters make employment variable and irregular. If there were not other 
interests, manufactures and building notably, the coal industry would 
scarcely offer a decent living to the communities directly or indirectly 
dependent upon it ; but as it is, the greater intelligence and thrift of the 
laboring classes here, the broader labor market, and the partial abandon- 
ment of the company's store system, have combined to continue the 
workingmen in a condition nearly as hopeful as that of ten or twelve 
years ago. How long such a condition can be maintained is the doubtful 
matter ; and upon its maintenance hangs the economic peace of this 
densely populated region. 

The social and industrial phenomena of the two coal fields differ widely. 
In the Hazleton region, which is the center of the lower field, the economic 
conditions are comparatively simple, although wholly deplorable. The 
mountainous and generally sterile nature of the country offered no attractions 
to the farmer settlers who were the pioneers of eastern Pennsylvania, and 
small holdings were originally, and still are, rare. With the development 
of the lumber interest, land was purchased in large parcels, which have 
remained substantially undivided in the hands of a few individuals and large 
mining companies, to be exploited at their pleasure. It is more than prob- 
able that this large ownership has saved many millions of dollars on the cost 
of mining, because one well-equipped plant can handle the coal underlying 
seven or eight hundred acres at a less cost per ton than could a smaller col- 
liery the product of an absolutely limited plot of two hundred acres. This 
benefit, however, has been done to the economic world at large, and through 


the few fortunate owners in particular ; while the local effects of the monop- 
oly have been the pei'iodical cutting of wages to the starvation point, with 
consequent strikes, the inefficiency and yearly greater degradation of the 
class of labor employed, the decay of legitimate retail trade in the small 
towns and hamlets, and the partial exemption of the great owners from tax- 
ation to the prejudice of the small householder. 

All things considered, it is scarcely to be wondered at that dwellers in 
the lower coal field feel an intense hostility toward the coal companies ; 
nor can anyone dispute the manifesto of the Hazleton miners early in last 
September, which proclaimed their condition unendurable. There were, 
crowded together in the towns or in mountain villages built around the more 
remote collieries, thousands of men, many of whom had no knowledge of 
English, and almost all of whom were without any skill or knowledge 
which might enable them to live otherwise than by rough labor in the 
mines. They lived in hovels, cottages, barns, tenements, as it happened, 
all owmed by the particular companies who employed the tenants, and all 
rented on such terms that they could be vacated a few hours after a notice 
had been served. 

Eviction w r as the more terrible weapon in the hands of the masters, because 
a household once turned out of doors by the police of one of the great com- 
panies might wander for miles before reaching a barren bit of land that was 
not controlled by the monopoly which had declared against them; and they 
would probably have the greatest difficulty in finding, a second time, employ- 
ment, with its attendant privileges of renting a shelter and buying upon credit 
at a " company store."* To the inevitable terrors of eviction, and the wast- 
ing poverty that is the lot of those who are forced, despite all legislative attacks 
upon the system, to buy only in the closed market of the mining company's store, 
there is added the crowning misfortune of all, scarcity of work. If work 
were plenty, and reasonably regular, — say eighteen to twenty-four days in a 
month, — a cut of two or three cents a ton would be powerless to cause a 
strike. The organizations which have been prominent in the troubles of the 

* House rent and the amount of his debt at the general store are invariably deducted from 
the monthly pay of the employee, and commonly he receives all or almost all of what remains 
over these charges in the form of an order or due bill which is negotiable at its face value 
nowhere except at the mine company's store, and even there only in wares valued at two or 
three times their ordinary retail price. 


past year are weak in membership and financial power, and not strongly 
fraternal in their relations with each other ; and they have taken upon them- 
selves the leadership only because the overthrow of the Knights of Labor in 
the coal regions, some few years ago, was so complete and disastrous as to 
leave no strong labor party in existence. It is not the turbulent leadership 
of the Polish and Slav secret societies, or of the United Mine Workers, which 
began and carries on the war between employers and employed, nor is the 
strife due mainly to the violent, brawling temper of the individual working- 
men. The trouble is simply that, with five, seven, or ten days of work in a 
month, the slightest " docking" or cut in wages brings the laborer to a depth 
of poverty so utter that no standard of living of which he has any knowledge, 
no matter how bare, how degraded, how filthy, can be accommodated to it 
under the fearful burden which the mine company's stores impose. Starva- 
tion, barely held off through three years of want, cannot longer be kept 
away by the ordinary means of labor and close living. It is starvation and 
despair, rather than the fiat of a labor council, that orders such strikes as 
those of last year. 

This situation, although enormously wasteful of human life, and of both 
quantity and quality of labor, is economically most simple. The owners of 
coal land have mined and marketed their coal at a profit which has almost 
steadily decreased during twenty-five years. With the less profit per ton, 
they have yearly endeavored to keep up their gross profits by increasing 
their output; and this effort, made simultaneously by many owners in Penn- 
sylvania and elsewhere, has resulted in a yearly output many hundreds of 
thousands of tons too great for the demands of the market. As an inevitable 
consequence, the price of anthracite coal at the mine (or its price at tide- 
water, less the cost of transportation) has fallen so low that there is only a 
dangerously narrow margin of profit, or perhaps no margin at all, for the 
proprietor. Accordingly, his receipts are eked out by the devices of com- 
pelling his workmen to hire houses of him, and to buy nowhere but at the 
mine company's store, rentals and the price of provisions rising, of course, 
as his balance sheet demands and the comparative wealth or poverty of his 
tenants permits. If the worst comes to the worst, so that no profits at all 
can be shown at the end of a month's business, the cheapest course of the 
employer is to " .shut down " until the market becomes stronger; and this 


may be accomplished directly by order of the company's superintendents, or 
indirectly, and as it were automatically, by cutting wages and so promoting 
a strike. 

There is no question that no satisfactory settlement of the labor difficul- 
ties in the lower coal field can be reached while over-production is every- 
where the rule. As anthracite coal is less and less used in manufactures and 
for railway service, it is inconceivable that the demand should rise, within 
several years, higher than the present yearly supply ; and until the demand 
be greater, or the supply very abruptly cut down, the market cannot stiffen. 
In the event of an extraordinary demand, such as, for instance, the present 
buying of American cereals in the Old World, it is conceivable that enough 
money might be brought into the coal trade to allow of a happy solution of 
the difficulties in the lower coal field. In the upper valleys, where the com- 
petition between proprietors of collieries is abnormally desperate, where the 
burden of loss through unproductive over-investment threatens to become 
quite as serious a feature as the crowding of the labor market or the fitful 
nature of all employment about the collieries, such a temporary prosperity 
would be likely to furnish a harmful stimulus. But in the Hazleton district 
two or three years of "good times" would benefit masters and men alike, 
and might be turned to account to forestall entirely the threatened crisis. 
For with a "boom" in the coal trade the companies would be financially 
able to return to their legitimate field, giving up their business of landlords 
and closing their stores. The effect of these two reforms would be felt at 
once among the workingmen, and with steady employment and a good 
demand for labor would do much to set the laborer on his feet, even though 
wages remained nearly as low as at present. Thus, by the time the inevita- 
ble reaction and shrinkage began to make itself felt in the coal trade, a 
part at least — those more intelligent and thrifty — of the crowded thousands 
now penned hopelessly within the limits of that one small and congested 
labor market, would be able to leave the collieries and to seek elsewhere 
some more promising field. It is to be remembered, too, that were the mine 
company's store once done away with, the labor market and the whole 
condition of the laboring people would be changed potentially for the better 
by the migration of a single family. 

Emily Johnson. 




Prof. Alcott Thayer was on his way to deliver a lecture at a girls' 
college. His destination was some dozen miles from his own university, 
where he daily condensed information for the undergraduate mind in respect 
to the Schisms of the Mediaeval Church. With some such orthodox matter 
the prospective lecture was to deal. 

The professor was a mild little gentleman, with kind, but dreamy 
eyes, with increasing thinness of hair, and grayness of beard. He pursued 
his daily walk in life with the utmost regularity. The walk was mostly a 
board one that extended through the university grounds and back. He left 
his bachelor apartments, on the outskirts of the college campus, at precisely 
ten minutes before chapel every morning. As he passed a certain red brick 
hall his shadow fell upon a first-floor window shade, and a reluctant senior 
within recognized it, and arose thereat, — not without grumbling. 

But the professor passed on his way unaware of this, and was content. 
Had it not been for the almost imperceptible thinning of hair and graying of 
beard, it would have seemed, year after year, that the professor had always 
been of just that age and complexion, and just that walk in life. Once, 
however, an obstreperous sophomore had felt himself pulled out of a rather 
tight-fitting scrape by the neatly gloved hand of the staid professor, and had 
walked away, muttering to himself a surprised bet that the old chap had 
been there, too, when he was an undergrad. 

After all, the professor must have been an undergraduate once. On 
this very evening, as the train carried him onward to meet his appointment 
at the girls' college, his mind went back to the time when he was a student 
where he now taught, and used to go out to this same girls' college of an 
evening, just as he was doing now. Just as he was doing now? Strangely 
enough, he had not been out there all these years since, — since what? His 
thoughts rummaged among time-worn memories, and tossed them about as 
remorselessly as old rags in a garret. 

The truth of it was, he had come out rather often in those days to call 
on a pretty girl there. At least, she must have been pretty. But it was 


so long ago, after all. He heretically wondered what would have happened 
if things had gone differently. He moved uneasily in his seat as he remem- 
bered that it was after one of his evening calls there, — the last, to be accu- 
rate, — that he had displayed a sudden, and somewhat unaccountable interest 
in the Mediaeval Church. 

He had distinguished himself by a monograph on church schisms, and 
everyone said it was a very deep sort of thing, and he really ought to keep 
on in that line. His father and mother had written him pleased letters from 
the old farm house. They had wanted him to enter the ministry, and re- 
joiced now at the idea of the Mediaeval Church. So he had tried not to 
disappoint them, and as he didn't go out to the college any more that winter, 
and didn't feel particularly drawn to the society of his own university, he 
naturally had a good deal of study time on his hands, and made the most of 
it. Then, by and by, he had taken his Ph.D., and had suddenly found him- 
self occupying the chair of history at his Alma Mater, with the Mediaeval 
Church for his specialty. He felt a little dusty and shopworn at the pros- 
pect, but he seemed to have gotten into a rut, and to be expected to stay 
there, so he succumbed in a feeble surprise. His parents had wept a little 
about it out at the farm, and had written him a grateful letter which he had 
answered with a half helpless sigh. 

All this was in his mind, but vaguely. His memory was rather disused 
now, and had gotten into routine ways of thinking. It did wander back, 
nevertheless, to his last evening at the girls' college. He thought he re- 
membered something about a lake and a boat and moonlight. What was 
said he didn't recollect clearly. In fact, he was under the impression that 
not very much was said. Memory fails so ! Ah, but he did remember one 
thing after all. That was what was in his thoughts when he moved uneasily 
in his seat. 

He wondered where she was now. He had not seen her since. He 
began to be shocked at the wandering of his own mind from its well-grooved 
course. He took out some of his lecture notes to run over, and held them 
for awhile, not noticing they were upside down. 

This was only momentary. Habit reasserted itself as he left the train. 
He was quite himself again, and his mind was full of his lecture when the 
carriage drew up at the college door, and the head of the history department 


met him there. She led the way to a parlor, and they entered into animated 
conversation on cardinal colleges and papal reservations. 

After a time a member of the faculty entered the parlor casually, and 
went to another part of the room where some magazines lay on a table. She 
was short and slight, with soft hair and a face it would have been hard to 
decide whether to characterize as sweet or severe. Her dress was plain and 
her hair had a thread of gray in it, yet there was a certain wistfulness in her 
eyes, like a child's. At least, that is how she was once described. 

On seeing her the head of the department called her over and intro- 
duced her. A few minutes of rather stiff general conversation followed, not 
half so edifying as the tete-a-tete on the Mediaeval Church had been. Then 
the history professor excused herself; she had an unexpected matter of aca- 
demic business to attend to. Would Miss Porter kindly take the professor 
to the lecture hall when the time came ? It would be in ten or fifteen minutes. 

The member had started a little, when she was introduced, at the name 
of Professor Thayer of Hawthorne University, and had looked narrowly at 
him. The professor had bowed and felt nervously for his notes. When the 
door closed on the head of the department he held out his hand with a timid, 
unused suggestion of impulsiveness, and said in a questioning, reminiscent, 
almost eager, way, "Miss Emily?" Then he was immediately ill at ease, 
for although he felt instinctively sure that it was she, he realized that this 
title might no longer apply to her. He had a sudden hope that it did. 

" Yes," she was saying, timidly, too. "I can hardly believe myself 
that I am here once more." She glanced suggestively, if unintentionally, at 
the lake. 

Then, as by mutual consent, they moved to the lake windows as to an 
old friend, and drew up their chairs there. Time passed, and the head of the 
history department would probably have marvelled to know how it was filled, 
and of her own share in the matter. 

The door opened and the head of the department entered hurriedly. 
She was sorry ; there must have been some misunderstanding, but the lec- 
ture hour had come ; in fact, the audience had been waiting fifteen minutes. 
She left the room with the professor who was murmuring confused apologies 
.and nervously sorting his notes. 

Such a thing had never before happened to Prof. Alcott Thayer. To 


be late to an appointment ! Watches had even been set on his arrival in 
classrooms as by schedule time. He had utterly forgotten the neatly turned 
compliment he had intended to make in his introduction. A more recent 
schism than the mediaeval one occupied his mind. But the respectful atten- 
tion of his audience somewhat restored his mental balance. 

After a hurried good-evening to the professor as he left the parlor, Miss 
Porter pushed back the chairs and went quickly to her own room. There 
her light burned so long that a logical young freshman remarked upon it to 
a secret assembly of the faithful over a midnight Welsh rarebit. 

By that time the professor had returned, weary but restored, to his 
Alma Mater. The next morning his shadow fell for a moment, punctually 
as ever, on the senior's window shade on his way to chapel. 

Isabella Howe Fiske, '96. 



The sea rolls in to the land ; 
The suu sinks low to the sea ; 
Both the sweep of the sea and the course of the sun 

Limits command. 

A brooding light that fades, 
Breaks through the upheaved clouds, 
To the uttermost bounds of the running sea, 

Haunting the shades. 

Oh life, that is wave on wave, 
Oh life, that is light of love, 
O'er the flood of thy thought, at the end prevails 

The light love gave. 

R. C. 


Aunt Celia was soi'ting the chaos of papers and books, calendars and 
pamphlets that had been collecting for several months in the drawer of the 
low bookcase. She had grone through the desk and the bis: closet, and the 


drawers, and shelves of the first-floor bedrooms. There was a heap of rub- 
bish on the floor beside her, and a larger one out in the hall. The waste 
basket was crammed. 

" I believe I'll have to burn this stuff up," she said; "the ash barrel 
won't stand it. Well, I declare, here's that receipt for Hopkinson's bill. 
Maria ! " 

Mrs. Waddington came to the sitting-room door with her big apron 
over her head, and a mouthful of tacks. She smiled as broadly as the tacks 
would permit, at the sight of her sister seated among billows of paper. 

"Hopkinson's bill," said Mrs. Meggies, waving it suggestively. 
"Those two girls just drop things wherever they happen to be, and then 
forget all about them." 

Mrs. Waddington extracted the tacks to laugh at this heartily. " Now, 
Celia, you know you're every bit as bad as the girls, and they come by it 
honestly, you know, from their mother." 

"There's no doubt about that," retorted Mrs. Meggies. "Have the 
men come for the carpets ? " 

"No. They seem to think the earlier you begin to clean house, the 
longer you can afford to wait. It's so warm to-day, seems as if fall hadn't 

" I don't know but what we are a bit early, but we'll be rushed enough 
when the girls get back to work. Schoolhouse begins to look as if it would 
be done, doesn't it? " 

"Yes, indeed," said Mrs. Waddington. "Well, it seems about time. 
I've got to get upstairs at the woodwork. Don't you throw away anything 
without thinking twice." 

This from Mrs. Waddington was advice resulting from much sad ex- 
perience. She had shipped many a valued possession in her "poor" boxes, 
and Mr. Waddington was even now engaged in breaking in a pair of new 
shoes. He had found himself the owner of two shoes, both belonging to 
the left foot, whilst a Western minister was undoubtedly rejoicing in two 
that belonged to the right. 

Mrs. Meggies went back to her task, after depositing the bill as a foun- 
dation for the next rubbish series in the desk. The house was very quiet. 
Both Anne and Edith had gone to Boston on a shopping expedition. The 


early September sunshine streamed through the bay window. Several trips 
had to be made before the debris was all safely in the basement. Then rose, 
puzzling as ever, the question how to get rid of it. 

Mrs. Meggies stood looking at the uncompromising pile for perhaps 
half a minute. It was Monday. The kitchen stove could not be used for 
this purpose. Neither the boiler nor the dinner could be sacrificed to the 
reigning terror, cleanliness. A glance through the entry window satisfied 
her that the ash barrel was indeed out of the question. Full to overflowing 
it was already, and the man was not to come before next Monday. Nellie, 
the maid, was hanging out clothes. Mrs. Meggies thought of calling to her 
for a possible suggestion. 

" No use," she said to herself. " I know the house as well as she does, 
that's sure." Her mind traveled from room to room, searching a repository. 
Down it came to the narrow entry where she was standing, and joyfully 
Mrs. Meggies rushed to the cellar door. The furnace, of course ! Absurd, 
not to have thought of it before. This was the very day for a little fire too, 
if one needed to make it, for the rooms could be well aired. The rather 
unseasonable warmth made it positive^ necessary to have all windows open, 
and no trace of smoke could remain. The task of removing the huge pile 
of combustibles was a mere bagatelle now. There was a twinkle of honest 
self-approbation in Mrs. Meggles's eyes, behind her glasses, as she carted 
apronfuls of papers and rags and tags across the cellar to the furnace door. 
She swept away the fine bits and the dust from the entry floor, armed her- 
self with several matches, and went back for the holocaust. 

I ask you to imagine the disgust you would feel, with every preparation so 
carefully made, a difficulty so admirably solved, if you had found that furnace 
already filled with old boxes. Mrs. Meggies, however, was not to be daunted. 

" Carelessness ! " she murmured, but with resignation rather than reproach 
in her voice. " But there's more ways of killing a cat than drowning it. I'll 
burn this up first, and the other afterwards." She put in some scraps of 
paper to start the flame with, kneeling on her apron before the door. There 
seemed a little reluctance on the part of the boxes to take fire, but finally they 
crackled a bit, flamed a bit, glowed a bit, and Mrs. Meggies closed the door. 
She went upstairs to take a last survey, but there was a serene emptiness and 
order reigning in everything that was capable of holding anything. 


"And what's best of all," thought Mrs. Meggies, "Maria and the girls 
won't find anything gone that ought to be saved. I'm sure of that, for I went 
slow and examined every scrap." She stood in the middle of the sitting room 
by the table. Gradually the expression of her face changed. She turned to 
the bay window. A queer, smoky smell was beginning to pervade the air. 
Mrs. Meggies sniffed rather unhappily. 

" What a smell ! You can tell that furnace hasn't been used before this 
season. There's a good draft though, so it'll soon clear away, I guess." 

The way was open now. Just the remains of a bright, quick fire were 
there when she went down and opened the door again. In went armful after 
armful, till the roar of flame and sucking chimney had carried off the night- 
mare heap, and all was still. A beautiful balance had been established, — 
order and emptiness above stairs, order and emptiness below. Mrs. Meggies 
brushed palm against palm, shook her apron out, and went at her next stint, 
the brass polishing. She called cheerily to Mrs. Waddington as she passed 
the second flight of stairs, "All done, Maria." 

The smell in the sitting room was, — was not gone. Gone? It was 
worse than ever ; an insinuating, peculiar odor, — an odor unjustified. No 
furnace had any right to smell so ; and why, why should it grow worse 
after the fire was out? Mrs. Meggles's inquiry was rudely interrupted by the 
sight of Mrs. Waddington, flying down stairs precipitately. 

" Celia, Celia ! Come down here. This is the blow that killed mother. 
Did you ever know me to do anything worse than this?" 

She held out a small yellow bowl. Even in her regret, Mrs. Meggies 
found some satisfaction. It was not the furnace which had smelt so. It was 
the half-burned clump of lace and linen reposing in the yellow bowl, all that 
was left of a number of choice handkerchiefs. 

"I came on those in Anne's drawer this morning, and I said to myself: 
' I'll just do those up. It's better not to put them in with the common things. 
I set 'em on the stove to boil, and forgot all about 'em. They're all the finest 
handkerchiefs we've got, — yours, and the girls', and mine." 

She held one up to view disfigured with great gaps and scorches. "It 
makes me sick. I'll just throw them into the fire." 

Mr. Waddington came home for dinner at one. Richard was in a Boston 
office, and the two girls were to make a day of it, so the three sat down 


together. Mrs. Waddington had a somewhat fixed plan of announcing 
catastrophes. They appeared without preface during the dessert, though 
there was a tradition existing in Mrs. Waddington's mind that she had 
mastered the art of breaking things gently, 

"George," she said, "I had another mishap this morning." 

"Well, mother, what have you been doing now?" 

A foreboding, by no means cheerful, dimmed the satisfaction of a good 
dinner that Mr. Waddington had been enjoying. The memory of those 
mismated shoes, a whole vista of predecessors to those unlucky shoes rose 
before him. He stroked his white beard in dubious expectation. 

"I burned almost a dozen handkerchiefs." Explanations were in order, 
of course. 

"Poor Anne and Edie ! " said Mrs. Meggies. "You won't hear the last 
of this for many a day, Maria." 

"I expect I won't," said Mrs. Waddington, with the greatest good 
humor; "not till the next joke turns up." 

"You'd better hurry up those carpet men, George," said Mrs. Meggies, 
as they pushed back their chairs. 

In the late afternoon, when Mr. Waddington came home from the bank, 
he always took his paper back into the sitting room. His own particular 
corner was there between the mantel and the little desk. The big rocking 
chair was an immovable piece of furniture, and under the lamp in its bracket 
above Mr. Waddington held his unvarying state. He was seated there as 
usual this evening about half past five, when the two girls came back from 
Boston. Mrs. Meggies and her sister were in the front bedroom sewing, so 
Anne and Edith went in to open packages, display acquisitions, and hear 
comments. There was always a need for ribbons to match every kind of 
workable or sewable fabric, and solemn were the consultations held over the 
varying successes. To-day Miss Anne Waddington brought out from a sort 
of dove-tailed, Chinese puzzle package two lace-edged handkerchiefs. 

"There's an extravagance, mother. I saw them in McCarthy's." 

"You can always find use for a pretty handkerchief," said Mrs. 

"Why, mother ! " Edith broke in, " with that great boxful that we never 
use, — such beauties, too. I told Anne it was foolish to spend the money on 


" Your mother has a special case in mind," said Aunt Celia. " Suppose 
you didn't own a boxful of beauties." 

' ' You don't mean to say " 

" She's given them away? No. Worse than that. She burned them 
up." Deep blankness ensued on the faces of the two girls ; a rather regret- 
ful, pitying, but amused expression on Mrs. "Waddington's face. Mrs. Meg- 
gies, having rendered her audience speechless, felt obliged to hold up her 
end of the conversation. 

" It was the queerest thing. I was in the sitting room, and this queer 
smell came up. And I said to myself, ' What's gotten into that furnace?" 

" But, mother, you didn't throw them into the furnace and " 

"No, your mother didn't do any such thing. You see I was clearing 
out, and I used the furnace. Burned the rubbish up " 

" Wasn't it too early to unpack those furs," said Edith incredulously. 

"For land sakes, child, who said anything about furs?" Mrs. Meg- 
gies began with some asperity, but a wail rose from three throats as one, 
and Anne gasped out : " Our furs ! Nellie told us the smoke kept off moths. 
Oh ! my tippet. My gloves ! " 

The blow was a great one.. In spring Nellie had advised packing the 
furs in the furnace. It appealed to the family as a good way of keeping 
the two muffs, the three tippets, the cap, gloves and odd pieces of seal that they 
had to store. So several boxes were selected, carefully packed, and stowed 
away in that unlucky furnace. Mrs. Meggies had been out West, visiting 
her son. Mrs. Meggies looked as if at this crushing intelligence she would 
never rise ao-ain. 

"Don't let's tell George," she said. " And I hope you'll find the heart 
to forgive me ! " 

" You couldn't be expected to know," said Mrs. Waddington. She 
was mentally relining the last vestiges of her ancient mink, and rejoicing 
that her fur-lined cape had hung all summer in the closet under her personal 

The party broke up in a short time, "melancholy, slow." Miss Anne 
weakly rejoiced over her pretty new handkerchiefs. 

" I declare I'm going to use these right off," she said to Edith, who 
was sorting ribbons. "You never know how long you'll have your things 
in this house." 


The bell rang for supper, and Mr. Waddington laid down his paper. 
He had almost forgotten those burnt handkerchiefs, but when he saw the 
girls giving a few finishing touches to the supper table, it came back to him. 

"You'll have some of the meat, won't you, Anne? Has mother told 
you girls what happened to-day?" 

"Yes," said Anne, in a soberly mirthful way. " Too bad, wasn't it?" 

Edith was almost taken with hysterics. Richard demanded his share 
of the new story and got it. 

"You'd lose your heads, if they weren't tied on," said Mr. Wadding- 
ton, with deep conviction. " It's a wonder and a mercy some one hasn't set 
fire to those furs in the furnace." 

" Well, it is a wonder," said Mrs. Waddington, passing him a cup of 

Anna E. Wolfson. 


Christmas is certainly the season when goodwill and kindly thought 
for others are in the air. The other day on my way down town, as I sat 
conning over my list of necessary presents to see where I could cut down 
expenses, a woman of the sort that we generally mentally put down as 
Seventh Street shoppers got on the car. It was a dreary day of mingled 
rain and hail, but in spite of the weather she wore a satin skirt, a velvet 
waist, a large hat with nodding plumes, and an expansive cape. Her boots 
were muddy, her hands were bare and red. I had the most disparaging 
thoughts in my mind, but could not help admiring her indifference to public 
opinion as I watched her take off her metal belt, adjust and replace it. 
Then she looked calmly around, and suddenly leaned over and spoke to a 
strange little girl opposite, who looked cold in spite of her jacket and a 
pink worsted scarf over her head. 

"Pull your fascinator up more, dear! There, that's better. First 
thing, this rain will make your crimps come all out of curl." 

One sees such varied happenings in this good-natured, cosmopolitan 
city. One afternoon the car was crowded, and many people clung to the 
straps and trod on the feet of those who sat. Presently some one got off 


and a seat was left vacant. A small boy leaned over, with brusque polite- 
ness, and tapped a woman on the arm. She shook off" his hand impatiently 
and gazed on into vacancy without seeing the empty place. Again he 
nudged and again failed. By this time everyone was smiling at the woman's 
absorption, and the small boy was getting irritated. He thrust out his arm 
almost roughly to touch her shoulder, and at the same moment the car gave 
such a sudden lurch that, with the combined force of touch and jolt, she 
lost her balance and fell backward against the car door. Surely, however, 
the sentiment of the season filled her heart, for where you and I might have 
shown anger, this amiable woman rose without embarrassment, bowed 
smiling thanks to the boy, and took the seat with a beaming face. 

An incident of another kind shows a lack of the proper spirit. Again 
the car was crowded. A man rose with a matter-of-course air to give his 
place to a girl. She with a like matter-of-course air sank into the seat, and 
took no more notice of the man or his courtesy than if he were a trouble- 
some obstacle conveniently removed. A flush of resentment showed on the 
man's face, but still courteous, he touched his hat, bent, and said, "Pardon 
me, but you are sitting on something of mine." The girl looked surprised, 
but rose readily enough. Then the man next to her laughed quietly, for 
the courteous fellow sat down again, — still his original matter-of-course air. 

Theee is, in the town where I live, a little family of three, two sisters 
and a good old cook who takes care of the household. It has been a time- 
honored custom with them on the advent of a fowl into the larder to suspend 
the bird on a nail from the kitchen window. Here, high above the ground 
and out of the reach of marauders, hung the Christmas turkey, tender, 
luscious, promising much feasting on the morrow. The elder sister, in 
accordance with conscientious habits, rose early on the morning of the 
twenty-fifth, and in the gray of dawn went out to church. When she re- 
turned, her bosom thi^obbing with cheerful good will, Jemima greeted her 
at the door in mournful tones: "Merry Christmas, Miss Helen! Some- 
body's done stole the turkey." And so it was. A long stick with a crotch 
at the end, meant to prop up the clothesline in the back } r ard, had been 
effectively used. The little thief had cunningly unhooked the turkey where 
it swung, and made off with the handsome bird. 


But, oh, to think of the joy in one humble household ! the praise and 
the penny bestowed on the adroit and plucky young protege of Mercury, 
god of swift-footed pilferers ! How the shabby children crowd around to 
see, while the careful mother cleans and dresses the great bird and pops him 
into the oven out of sight of longing eyes ! Imagine, if you can, the pride 
and satisfaction of the honest father as he gazes from turkey to numerous 
family, and from numerous family back to turkey, calculating with wise 
forethought just how much must go to each, and which tender and juicy 
portion will be best suited to his own humble tastes. Can't you see the 
mother, contentment shining on her plump, black face, and stealing in little 
drops of perspiration down her temples, as she bears the well-basted fowl to 
the otherwise frugal board, while the father with ever-devoted parental care 
administers a cuff to the impatient Jerry, wriggling with hunger and eager- 
ness? Then a moment of silence comes, for they are good Baptists, and the 
head of the family asks a wordy eloquent blessing. At last ! No need for 
forks and knives, once the helping is done. Little black fingers and little 
white teeth do their work well, and soon with longing satisfied, Christmas 
joy and good will reigns in every breast. 


Fair, white-robed child, that liDgerest at the door, 
And yieldest to the passing black-polled bier 
Where lies the body of the dead Old Year ; 

Fearless, pass thou the waiting threshold o'er ! 

Thy welcome is assured. Whate'er the store 
Of joyous hours thou bringest, what the drear 
And desolate days of grief, have thou no fear ! 

If undreamed blessings in our cups thou pour, 

Or if thou come to make our hearts full sore, 
By taking from them what they hold most dear, 
We welcome thee ; heaven-sent thou standest here. 

God thought thee in his mind the worlds before 

Thou comest, new create, immortal guest, 

To obey a loving Father's wise behest ! 

Josephine A. Cass, B.A., 1880. 




Directly opposite me in the dining room of this hotel, the Richmond, 
sits a gentleman whose stature borders on the heroic. Presumably you 
would conclude, after one view of his broad and foreshortened dimensions, 
that he is an Englishman ; and that is exactly what he is. To my left, at a 
similar table, sits a little old lady of the most lilliputian aspect, and she, as 
you might easily see, is a spinster of the real old kind. He sits alone and 
she sits alone. But oh, the proud, complacent glory of the one and the 
timid, depreciative air of the other. 

Punctually at half after nine Mr. Maines appears with a danger signal 
for a headpiece and the rest of him looking like an animated checkei'board. 
Fortunately, he is not like the Englishman who had to wear two suits of 
clothes to get one check on. There is a nervous commotion in the dining 
room, and the head waiter draws back his chair with a click like the snap of 
a heavy gold watch cover, seats him, and doubling himself up like a jack- 
knife he presents Mr. Maines with the bill of fare. Then the waiter, with 
respect so tempering his whole man that he acts like a steel watch spring, 
disappears silently behind the doors with the breakfast order lodged con- 
fusedly in his head. There is but a very unannoying interval and the waiter 
returns, springing noiselessly along with the cracked wheat, kippert herring, 
beefsteak, browned potatoes, coffee pot, and crescent rolls laden on his tray. 
There is not a gleam of expectancy in Mr. Maines's eye, and why should 
there be, for he has ordered this same breakfast for nearby forty years. The 
waiter nervously shakes up the Worcestershire sauce bottle and says in the 
most tentative tones, "Sauce, sir?" The danger sio-nul is lowered sliffhtlv 
and on goes the sauce. Mr. Maines never raises his eyes, but keeping them 
riveted on a corner in front of him he acts exactly as if he were deciphering 
Egyptian hieroglyphics, while he carefully disposes a monument of food 
within him. His breakfasting is a serene, contemplative process that does 
not interfere with his accumulation of avoirdupois from }-ear to year, and but 
convinces you of his solidity from day to day. 

As I was trying to see if there really were anything in the corner, even 
a mouse or the head of a nail would have satisfied my curiosity about his 


stare, I heard a timid little rustle. Miss Tilury had come in, and with both 
rheumatic little hands on the back of her heavy, large chair, she was tugging 
it out from the table. Quietly she sat down on it and again with both rheu- 
matic little hands grasping tightly the sides of the seat, she was hitching 
forward to the proper angle under the table. Then sitting rather uncom- 
fortably on the edge she looked about with an apprehensively expectant air. 
Her own waiter was nowhere to be seen and the other waiters were sazina - 
determinedly at certain indeterminable objects in the room. Miss Tilury 
settled back a little wearily, but she could not reach the right-angled corner 
of the back and seat, so she straightened up again and resumed her expectant 
air. In a few minutes her waiter came slowly around the corner of the 
room and as slowly up to her chair. I saw Miss Tilury tilt her head till she 
could look over her spectacles, then she smiled sweetly at the recreant 
James. Then I heard her bidding him good rnornino- and civing her break- 
fast order of oatmeal, bacon, and some very weak tea. Then again she 
w r earily endeavored to settle back in her chair, only to hitch more nervously 
forward and look around distractedly. During a long interval of waiting 
she ate an orange which had not been prepared for her. Her weak hands 
ran the spoon into each succeeding compartment with growing timidity ; the 
juice squirted all over her black henrietta cloth waist, and all over her face 
and spectacles. Finally the spoon slipped as she was driving it into the 
last compartment of the first half and dropped clatteringly on the hard floor. 
Miss Tilury jumped, flushed, and hitched farther forward on her chair and 
then looked about furtively for the spoon. She made several little motions 
as if she would pick up the spoon, but no one offered to do it for her, and 
still flushing she turned her eyes toward the corner around which she ex- 
pected James to come. He came, and resting an edge of the tray on the 
edge of the table he set the dishes down noisily. Leaning across the table 
he speared a butter pat and put it on her bread plate, then remembering, he 
handed her a finger bowl. 


Miss Tilury had put on her black henrietta gown that morning, for she 
was going to a house wedding. She had been invited to this wedding 
because of her important connections in Philadelphia. The henrietta gown 


had cost her a most extravagant sum of thirty dollars. She had engaged a 
dressmaker to do all the heavy sewing, for which she paid eight dollars ; and 
then she finished it off in her own room. It was a very plain little gown, 
too tight under the sleeves, and the waist seams not at all even. Up and 
down the front she had two rows of black chiffon which had cost the most 
unusual price of one dollar a yard ; and at the neck and sleeves she had 
ruching which she got very cheaply at a bargain counter for fifteen cents. 
She knew that she should not have afforded this dress. The trustees of her 
father's estates allowed her only a very small sum until her father's debts 
could be paid off. She could not bear leaving the hotel where she and her 
father had lived so happily. For pecuniary reasons, it is true, she had moved 
out of their former suite of rooms into one back room on the sixth floor. 
Now after the rash extravagance of the henrietta gown, she feared that she 
could not give James one dollar for Christmas or for the other servants ; also 
she would have to curtail her car fares and walk down to the " Old Ladies' 
Mission," where she read every day to them. But she smiled cheerfully when 
she thought of the creditable appearance she would make ; and then how 
pleased her dainty little old mother would have been could she but see her. 
At all costs "the family" must be considered first, and what would the 
bride's family think to see a member of the groom's family shabbily dressed ! 
Yes, she would have to give James fifty cents. 


About half an hour later, as I was leaving the hotel on my way to the 
Maines-Washington wedding, I saw in front of me Miss Tilury, and in 
front of Miss Tilury Mr. Maines. In lock step up Walnut Street we 
marched, but Mr. Maines's beefsteaks told upon us both, and before I knew 
it he had swung a block ahead of us, was admitted and disappeared into the 
Maines mansion. I walked slowly behind the little lady, interested in watch- 
ing her, and I imagine very much engaged in trying to piece her life together 
from the little that I knew, when I was startled by a, " Well, Mr. Jerome, 
have you forgotten me ? " and, raising my hat, I found myself confronted by 
one of my mother's charming friends. The pleasure of seeing her sent rum- 
inations about Miss Tilury flying, and for two or three minutes we stood 
there conversing. Mrs. Fitz remembering that she had an urgent enoaoe- 


nient in Wanamaker's waiting room hurried on ; and I quickened my pace 
just in time to watch Miss Tilury mount the Maines steps with unusual 
care, owing, I suppose, to the thin slush and ice covering everything and form- 
ing as fast as it was scraped away. It is a great temptation to stop here and 
describe the Maines Mansion. Perhaps if you care for mausoleums you will 
be interested in it. It is an immense pile of gray-white marble, — a monu- 
ment in memory of a certain "Maines Expectorant" that raised it. The 
memory of that expectorant has become very hazy in the Maines family ; in 
fact, nothing but a family tradition, although it belongs to the first known 
generation of Maineses. 

If you want the history of this marvelous cure you may get it any- 
where from Timbuctoo to the North Pole. If you are fond of roughing it, 
you will find it pasted up fifty miles from nowhere, in the Adirondacks or 
Rockies. To express one's self freely, somebody's balsam and Hood's sar- 
saparilla are not in it with this omnivisible expectorant. 

But there, I have been led into a digression upon life history of some- 
thing you, no doubt, know all about. Miss Tilury grasped the doorbell with 
her little gloved hands and gasped, for she had hold of the middle part of a 
large, fat bronze cherub. Her fingers fitted in just under his little armpits 
and in the crease around his chubby little stomach. Her face expressed con- 
fusion and apprehension ; she acted as if she had crashed through his little 
bronze ribs already, and squeezed out his arm sockets. I hastened forward, 
grasped it for her, and remarked that the only advantage such a doorbell had 
over the ordinary electric button was its size. She flushed gratefully, and 
we were ushered in. 


The rooms were crowded and beautifully decorated. The end of the 
largest room was ribboned off from the rest, and a canopy of green covered 
the space, while on three sides it was walled in by banks of palms and roses. 
We must have been rather late, for a sudden hush and distant sounds of music 
heralded the approach of the bride. I gazed, for I had heard much of Miss 
Maines, and was anxious to form my own opinion. She was a tall, thin, nerv- 
ous-looking young woman with full red lips ; a small nose with wide nostrils, 
beautiful blue eyes, and a receding forehead. It was a sensual, selfish face ; 


the face of one who knew her own mind and how to better her own fortunes. 
I suppose that is why she was to marry Aubrey Washington, for he pos- 
sessed the coveted apple of her worldly dreams, which was family ; while on 
the other hand he possessed neither sense nor fortune : two things she could 
amply supply him with. I came to the conclusion that it was a most fortu- 
nate arrangement. It is not often that you find people so perfectly suited 
to each other in this world. 

I glanced over to the other side of the room and there sat Miss Tilury, 
smiling and pleased. Her little black-gloved hands were folded neatly in 
her lap, while she sat erect in a small chair some one had kindly placed there 
for her. Through her spectacles she was showering a world of love upon 
her nephew Aubrey ; she was looking so proud and happy, and with the 
most delighted expression she was observing the magnificently gowned, 
wasp-like shape of Miss Maines. Approval had stamped itself all over her 
wrinkled, sweet little countenance, and when Miss Maines said in a loud and 
determined voice, " I do," Miss Tilury took out a dainty little handkerchief 
and wiped around her spectacles. Then when the couple, hand in hand, 
kneeled for prayers and the blessing, Miss Tilury dusted both her nose and 
spectacles tremulously. In her eyes matrimony was such a sacred, solemn 
pledge, and life so uncertain. When the music began to play again she gave 
one determined little dust, folded her hands neatly in her lap, and regarded 
the dado behind her nephew's handsomely encased legs. 


Miss Tilury hurriedly escaped from the house ; she was so moved that 
she feared she would not be able to converse as would become a member of 
the Washington family. Just after her, in an immaculate black frock coat, 
walked Mr. Maines, and again I brought up in the rear. It seemed odd that 
none of ub had been introduced, or at least that Miss Tilury and Mr. Maines 
did not know each other. I had just come to the city, and knew scarcely 
anyone except my mother's old friends. The pavements had become still 
slipprier, and Miss Tilury was fearfully tiptoeing her way along, while Mr. 
Maines walked firmly and squarely upon the whole soles of two heavy calf- 
skin boots. One flagstone dipped toward the curb at an angle of three or 
four degrees ; and down the flagstone slid Miss Tilury into the arms of a 


green lamp-post, — which was not so green after all, when it did such kindly 
offices as to restore the equilibrium of sweet little old spinsters. A little 
dazed and a little more nervously she picked her way along, and reached suc- 
cessfully the curb of 20th Street. She seemed to slip and then stumble, 
falling sideways, striking her head violently on the raised curb. Mr. 
Maines gave one bound forward and bent over to lift her up before I could 
reach her. She gasped, as she gasped when she seized the cherub, gave a 
little sigh, turned her head wearily on Mr. Maines's big arm, and that was 
all. A crowd was collecting fast, so I called an ambulance, and seeing that 
I could do nothing else, I kept on my way to the hotel. 

That night when going down to dinner I met Mr. Maines's servant with 
the black frock suit over his arm, evidently on the way to the tailor's. Mr. 
Maines was already seated at the table, consuming with his usual calm and 
imperturbability an enormous portion of rare roast beef. He told me after 
dinner that Miss Tilury was to be buried on Wednesday, from the house of 
her niece Mary Washington. 



There was not a sophomore club in the university, with the possible 
exception of the Wooden Trencher, which was made up of persons who had 
nothing to lose in the way of public reputation, which could compare in 
versatility, ingenuity, and the successful dispatch of business with the Vul- 
ture. All the world knows that their eagles held the van at a great national 
function, whither they went at the Presidential invitation ; although the 
means and the manner by which this honor was obtained are known unto 
this day to no more than three persons, and fully understood by less than 
two. There were great minds among the Vultures, who, with the harmony 
that attends success, had long lived together in amity, honoring one another. 
At the time of which I am to speak the whole continent of the Americas 
could hardly have produced a band of desperadoes more daring, more clan- 
nish, or more fertile in expedients for the suppression of all freshman traits 
wherever manifested. Noughty-nought was a class remarkable for its ath- 
letic prowess, and undergraduate rumor had it that certain " sour balls" of 
the Trencher communion had made use of the bitter rivalry between the 


classes to shelter themselves in bullying the newcomers. The eai'liest class 
battles of the year had gone all too favorably for the youngsters, and sopho- 
more sentiment was deep and fitter against the valiant enemy; but never- 
theless, as the juniors openly said, and the Vultures secretly believed, the 
wounding and maiming of freshman champions promised to divorce all honor 
from victory. The Vultures looked back over the short and sorry annals 
of their class, reviled the Trenchermen with growls and groanings, and reg- 
istered a decree that the cane spree must be won, if won at all, by humane 
and decent measures. 

"lam so far a pagan," spoke the oratorical Holmes, pushing away his 
empty plate and standing up in his chair to command the attention of his 
peers, " that I will consent to throw dust in the eyes of the gods of war, if 
success may so be won. But never, gentlemen, never will I give my vote 
to appease a barbarous deity with human sacrifice." 

" Nelly was a lady ! " chorused the head of the table. " That's white ; 
stand by you there, Nelly ! " 

" We'll lose the heavy weight if we let their man go in against stumps," 
objected somebody. 

"Lose it, then!" cried the orator, with an attitude of majestic resig- 
nation. "Can we not save our noble house without dishonor?" 

A mingled clamor answered this appeal until " Canal" Brewster's voice 
made itself heard for the affirmative. 

" That's right," he cried, "and Nelly knows what's got to be done. A 
standing vote, fellows, and give the lady a finger all round!" 

The Vultures rose with one accord and swooped upon the side table, 
where two plates of baker's cakes of the variety named flanked a scanty 
dessert of gelatine pudding. The happy orator gathered up the missiles 
which Brewster's suggestion had brought down upon him, and seated him- 
self to finish out at leisure a bounteous repast, while the rest of the club ate 
their pudding without cakes, and pondered upon the task which they had 

As the "cane spree" was but four days off, no time was to be lost. 
At noon of the second day, and while the distinguished corps was gathered 
for luncheon, Tommy Thompson broke in with a rush, crying as he fell into 
his accustomed seat: "I've got it! I tell you, I've got 'em! Oh, a dead 


cinch ! " Gasping with haste and excitement, he unintentionally gagged 
himself with a bite taken at random from the crust of a great roll, and was 
for several minutes unable to respond to the demands and ministrations of 
his fellow Vultures by anything more specifically reassuring than capers and 
contortions. Finally, the power of speech being restored, he unfolded to 
his allies a scheme of excellent simplicity. 

" Going along after chapel, I saw Mud Wilson and old Pap Prescott 
hanging 'round a bunch of freshmen, an' the freshies were rattled an' pretty 
well scared, an' tryin' to get away and couldn't," gasped Tommy. " Cran- 
crow," the freshman heavy weight chosen for the cane spree, "was one of 
'em : he and a little fellow cut loose from the push an', dodged 'round and 
'round for ever so long, but Pap Prescott never let go, not a little bit. Then 
they cut in back of the gymnasium, an' there they thought they'd got 'em 
pinched. Pap Prescott began slugging Crancrow, and Mud took the little 
'un ; and the little 'un showed fight, an' Mud began to holler for sophomores." 
Tommy paused, and swallowed a glass of milk before his climax. The club, 
their patriotism stirred to battle heat by tidings of resistance among the 
Helots, waited with impatience to hear that the freshman heavy weight, to- 
gether with his companion, had retired from active service for a month or 

"But I remembered there musn't be any dirty work, so I told Mud to 
stop if he didn't want us to do him ; so he and Pap Prescott hung round for 
awhile, and then went off with a couple of polers toward the library." 

The Vultures gazed into one another's faces with mute amazement ; the 
open proclamation of their principles on such an occasion was a matter only 
less remarkable than the retreat of the two Trenchers before Tommy's con- 

"Then I went along with Crancrow, an' took care of 'em all the way 
home, an' went up stairs with 'em an' had a cigar in Craucrow's rooms. 
Awfully good sort of place, too ; easy to get into, and good enough when 
you do get in. He's a rich bugger, Crancrow." Tommy buttered a potato 
tranquilly with the air of one recalling a delightful experience not too long 
past. All excitement had vanished from his manner as he made away with 
whatever viands happened to be nearest to him, and he seemed to have lost 
all interest in his own story; but the Vultures who knew him held their 


peace, understanding that Tommy was ripening a plot in no wise unworthy 
of their name. 

"Grateful as anything to me," murmured the narrator, after a long 

pause. " Green ! Well, I say, you fellows, " And here was revealed 

to the delighted brotherhood the plan, absolutely original, startling in its 
novelty, and simple and safe of execution, by which Tommy Thompson and 
the Vultures saved at once the laurels and the fair fame of their class. 

On the day following the making of the Vultures' plot, Tommy Thomp- 
son took three of the cuts which he had been laying up against the week be- 
fore the Christmas recess, and disappeared from the university until late in 
the afternoon. Then, as was afterwards remembered, he returned by a train 
coming from the direction of Metuchen, and leaping into a buggy which stood 
behind the station drove rapidly hither and thither through the streets of the 

Just as his reckless driving and apparently purposeless maneuvers were 
beginning to attract public attention, Tommy saw the objects of his search 
walking slowly toward him. The street was full of citizens and students, 
and a violent seizure was, of course, out of the question. With a whistle of 
the whip and a great rattle and banging of buggy wheels against the curbstone, 
he brought his vehicle to a violent stop a few yards in front of the pair, and 
hailed them. 

"Hi, there ! Freshman ! Hi, you there ! Crancrow ! I say, Crancrovv ! " 

The startled freshmen recognized him with an evident relief that was to 
the artful student of mankind a homage doubly sweet. "Oh, it's you!" 
sighed Crancrow. "I thought " 

"Don't seem surprised ; don't look around," commanded Tommy Thomp- 
son in a low tone. "You're going to get into a scrape if you don't look out ! 
Those fellows are laying for you, you know, and if you ever want to spree 
for your cane, you'll have to have your wits about you. They've just gone 
down to your room, so you can't cover there. They'll be back here in no 
time, though. You'd better jump in with me, and I'll try to take you some- 
where. This is a poor old log of a beast, and we mayn't get away from 'em ; 
but it's all you can do." 

"What are you doing this for?" queried the smaller of the freshmen, 
with suspicion. Crancrow already had his foot upon the step, and he scarcely 
hesitated to hear their protector answer, — 


" Well, I'm a sophomore, but I like good sport. Pile in !" 

"Pile in, Med," repeated Crancrow; and at his friend's bidding the 
other sprang in, and seated himself as best he could between the two. They 
raised the hood of the buggj' in all haste, and Thompson turned off " at a 
venture," as he explained, into the New Brunswick road. A period of con- 
sultation and suggestion then followed, and as a result the rescued asked, or 
thought they asked, to be set clown at one of the smaller hotels in the city of 
New Brunswick. 

Once here, a series of surprises awaited them. Scarcely had the trio 
made their way to the parlors, which their presiding genius advised in pref- 
erence to the publicity of the office or the barroom, than the landlord him- 
self appeared, called the sophomore by name in a most friendly manner, 
and assured them several times that " Everything was all right, all ready 
— just as it should be, of course." Scarcely less puzzling was the attitude 
of Tommy Thompson himself; for although it was but four o'clock in the 
day, that young person had developed a most astounding appetite for din- 
ner, and ate, and compelled them to eat, a hearty meal. Even here, how- 
ever, the protector showed himself not unmindful of their needs, ordering 
training fare with some excellent roast beef for Crancrow, while he him- 
self dined more luxurious^. Somewhat to Tommy's surprise, the smaller 
freshman imitated the frugality of his classmate, remarking that he, too, 
was in training " for a try at the cane " ; but the recollection that fully half 
of the freshman class were said to aspire to athletic honors of one kind or 
another, sufficiently accounted for this self-denial. 

Of what happened immediately after the dinner, Crancrow and his 
frieud somehow never obtained a clear idea. The heavy-weight champion 
remembered dimly that little Medlar fell asleep at table, and that Thomp- 
son, leaning back in his chair and smiling with sage indulgence, was so 
uncommonly well bred as to take no notice of this failing. Crancrow him- 
self was increasingly dull, as it seemed to him, but as far as his memory 
could reach he saw himself manfully upright in his chair, answering at great 
length and painstakingly all his host's remarks. It was a sudden change to 
awake to find himself in bed, with the darkness of midnight about him, and 
Medlar's head and white-clad shoulders faintly discerned on a cot against the 
opposite wall. He was still too drowsy to remark the full oddity of their 


situation, however; he lay still, half dozing, until the sound of footsteps, 
the glimmer of a lamp, and a few murmured words at the door were fol- 
lowed by the appearance of the landlord himself, bearing a small kerosene 
lamp and a huge tray full of covered dishes. He smiled in a most honest 
fashion as he met Crancrow's gaze. 

"You're all right," cried he in a wheezy whisper. "You're all right. 
I've got a son in your class, and I'll stand by ye. Duncan's his name ; 
know him? "Well, well, I'll see that you boys are kep' away from them 
sophomores, and give ye enough to eat to keep yer muscle up. Don't you 
be scared. You'll get the cane sure, my son says. I guess I'd better wake 
- up the little gentleman, hadn't I ? Is he training, too, eh ? It's time he should 
eat somethin' now, for he'll fall off if he sleeps too long on nothhr ! " 

" How did we get here?" demanded Crancrow, rising up on his elbow. 
In truth, he began to be conscious that he was very hungry. 

" You came here with that young feller," responded the host. " He's 
a sophomore, too. I found out after, but he said he was a freshman when 
he got the rooms for you. You and the little gentleman there went to 
Sieep after dinner, and then the young feller laughs, and tells me to put you 
to bed, and goes off without you, laughin' as if he'd die." 
Crancrow began to swear. 

" I guess he must 'a drugged you," added their host in a still lower 
tone. "But you're all right, ain't you? The spreeing ain't till to-morrow 
night, and it's only one o'clock in the morning now." 

Medlar here began to stir and grunt, so that -he interrupted the cham- 
pion's response, and the landlord went over and shook hitn into a partial un- 
derstanding of the story. Medlar groaned, and covered his face with his 

" Heavy-weight and light-weight both missing ! " he cried. " O, what 
will the fellows say ? " 

" "War you going to be a spreer, too?" cried mine host in great sur- 
prise. " Both of you champions ? He didn't tell me that?" 

And then, amid groans and lamentations from the light-weight, who 
refused to be comforted by any promises, and with occasional sullen growls 
from Crancrow, the victims made an enormous dinner from the rare beef, 
bread and potatoes provided by their kindly sympathizer. The landlord ex- 


plained in the meantime that he had routed two attacking parties of sopho- 
mores, who had come while the champions slept with intent to seize their 
persons ; that he had concealed them in this out-of-the-way corner of the 
house, hoarded up the only window', and set a guard at the door to protect 
them from discovery: and, finally, that he was perfecting a plan by which 
they were to be smuggled to another town on the morrow, and returned 
to the university barely in season for the spree itself. This being ex- 
plained, and his guests manifesting but scant courtesy or gratitude for his 
condolences, mine host presently took up his lamp and departed, leaving by 
an oversight the remnants of victuals upon the tray. 

Left alone, the pair bemoaned the simplicity which had led them into 
this trap. Escape, however, there was none at present, as their clothes 
were unaccountably missing, and the landlord's key had rattled faintly in 
the lock. 

"The old man ain't white," groaned Medlar in despair. "They"re 
paying him, of course, and he'll see to it that we don't get away so soon ! 
Even if all that horse about sending us away in time was true, there'd be 
some trap about it. They'd catch us somewhere and finish us. Oh, it's a 
fixed game, of course ! Only wonder is that they don't starve us in the 
first place ! " 

"Yes," grunted Crancrow, and muffling his head in the coverlid 
turned toward the wall, ostensibly to finish his interrupted rest. " The light- 
weight being now thoroughly awake and almost abnormally hungry, sat 
upon the edge of his cot and pondered, and ate all that was left of the 
dinner. "Got to keep up my strength, anyhow," he reflected. "Think I 
know their game, too ; but if we can make a break for it when the old man 
does let us go, we may get in after all." And presently, meditation growing 
wearisome, he too turned over and slept. 

Although Tommy's soporific kept them drowsing until well along in the 
morning, the prisoners were hard pressed to pass the hours of the next day. 
The boarded windows gave them so little light that they could neither read 
nor write, although a much-thumbed "Prisoner of Zenda" and a few sheets 
of hotel paper were discovered on a closet shelf. The narrow limits of 
their cell forbade any prolonged attempt at practice spreeing ; and in their 
boredom the breakfast, luncheon, dinner, and supper brought to them by 


the host made their only recreation. By some fortunate provision of 
Nature, however, they were able to enjoy this pleasure even more fully than 
usual, each successive meal seeming to have the property of leaving them 
hungrier than before. The forenoon of the second day, moreover, repeated 
the same programme ; but at noon the landlord brought in with the mid- 
day meal a lighted lamp, a mirror, and their clothes. 

They dressed, ate, and looked one another over. Each protested that 
he had never felt more vigorous, and a hope of ultimate escape began to 
dawn upon their minds. Crancrow tried the door; it opened, and 
they walked out of the room and out of the house without meeting 

"The sophomores can pay our bill," chuckled little Medlar, gleefully; 
but Crancrow shook his head. 

"We shan't get off too easy," he sighed. "We're lucky if we get out 
of this town before the spree's over and done with." 

Yet in spite of these forebodings, the champions, by dint of great 
dexterity in skipping around corners and through railway passenger cars, by 
a most confusing system of changing from train to train and from grocer's 
cart to a closed carriage, which they drove in the wake of a passing funeral, 
succeeded in reaching their lodgings in the university town without mishap. 
Tommy Thompson came out of a neighboring shop just as the two turned 
in at the door, and his look of horror, surprise, and dismay was a matter 
which delighted half a hundred freshmen, to whom the heroes told the story 
before dinner time. 

Meanwhile, Mr. Thompson, encountering a freshman in the streets of 
the town, had been so far stirred by anger, disappointment, or some other 
emotion, as to attack his inferior with both taunts and blows ; and the fresh- 
man, full of a natural exultation at the escape of his brethren, had made a 
display of violence and broken the sophomore's collar bone. The delay of 
setting the bone caused Tommy to appear on the campus rather late for the 
spreeing. The freshman light weight was hard at work, but one of the Vul- 
tures poked the invalid violently in the ribs and intimated that "that fellow 
ain't half as strono- as our little Medlar ! " 

" Over weight?" queried Tommy, placidly. 

" O Lord, yes ! Four pounds ! " returned the other in a whisper, his 


eyes leaving the combatants for a moment. "Gained four pounds in two 
days ! Oh, we'll have a bill for beef with the old man ! " 

" Rah ! rah ! we've got it ! " roared somebody among the sophomores ; 
and the Vultures embraced Tommy with unaccountable fervor, and greatly to 
the danger of his broken bone. 

The second match, the middle weight, went to the freshmen with 
scarcely any objection from the sophomore side ; the heavy weight was the 
contest in which the knowing ones were most interested from the start. 
Somebody on the far side of the ring began to cheer for Crancrow, then 
somebody else cried "No!" and in an instant confusion reigned. 

"He couldn't weigh in!" shouted a sophomore. " Yi ! yi ! Shame! 
He ate too much, and he gained three pounds over the limit ! Yi ! Shame ! 
shame ! " 

And as the Vultures raised Tommy Thompson tenderly on their shoul- 
ders, the third-rate substitute of the gluttonous Crancrow came out to his 


The writer of Jottings last month was peculiarly fortunate in her table 
talk. Surely no intellectual freshman could scorn the delicious entrees of 
conversation so attractively garnished by able " quizzingers."* But, alas, 
such sweetmeats are not so common at our college table that we can all enjoy 
them, and it is conceivable that a newcomer might think there were no such 
nuts for her. I offer no excuses for the intellectual freshman whose discon- 
tent with frivolous table talk was the occasion of the feast of reason pre- 
sented in the November Magazine. Indeed, I strongly suspect that young 
woman to be deluded by the adroit simplicity of, manner which partially con- 
ceals the profound significance in the speech of certain of our most august 
faculty and seniors. Yet however gravely the intellectual freshman may 
have mistaken her companions, the sentiment she expressed is not to be de- 
rided by those among us who can give her a remote sympathy. Perhaps 
some of us were intellectual ourselves — when we entered college. Perhaps 
our cravings for spirited conversation on subjects of vital interest were not 

* Some one tells me this excellent pun is not my own. I thought it was. 


satisfied then, as they are now, by the sort of talk which is apparently un- 
known to the writer of Jottings. If I could have had that freshman with me 
at dinner last night, would her soul have sickened, or would she have been 
stimulated, as our laughter-strained faces showed us to be, when the meal 
was ended? 

It was a concert night, and our gay sophomore sat at one end of the 
table with a college man at either hand. They did not include themselves in 
the general conversation, which began with a discussion about the lasting 
qualities of Mr. Heinrich's adorable voice. Then some one commented upon 
the unusual splendor of our elegant senior, who rustled in ten minutes late. 

"Oh, I'm cross!" she said. "My man didn't come! I knew he 
wouldn't when I drew his name out from under the pillow this morning." 

" You needn't talk; I had worse luck than that," wailed the nervous 
senior. A pause. " I drew out Mr. Parker's name ! " she ended, tragically. 

There was a chorus of sympathetic oh's. 

" Poor Mabel ! You mi2;ht better have °"one without the wedding cake," 
said her roommate ; and added, frankly : " I drew out the old maid the first 
thing. I was so glad to be rid of her ! " 

"But why," put in the inquiring sophomore, "why do you think it 
makes any difference whose name you draw ? There's no superstition about 
it, is there ? " 

The sophomore, you perceive, had not entirely lost the intellectual 
habit. Her question was unheeded by the wedding-cake dreamers, so she 
turned to the solemn junior. "I wonder what sort of man these girls like. 
What sort of man would you want to marry ? " 

" That question has puzzled me a good deal of late," returned the other 
slowly. "I can imagine myself married to any man, from a butcher to a 
philosopher, but I can't imagine the man I should want to marry." 

' ' How very strange ! " 

"Just look at Mabel's eyebrows!" exclaimed some one. We all 
looked. One was up and the other was down. 

" What's the matter?" cried Mabel, nervously. "Is it up? O girls, 
is it up ? " 

" O, I don't see how she can do it. Can you do that?" asked the in- 
quiring sophomore. 


" Yes," answered the solemn junior. 

" I knew a girl once," began the story-teller, "who could wiggle her 
ears " 

" I can wiggle my ears," said the solemn junior. 

" And her scalp, too ! " continued the story-teller. 

"I can wiggle my scalp. Could she wiggle her chin, also?" queried 
the solemn junior. 


" I can wiggle my chin, also." 

" Let's see you." 

"Do 'em all ! " commanded the presiding senior. (Our faculty member 
was not present.) 

The solemn junior silently performed the compound operation. 

We all fell back in our chairs and wept. 

" Flexibility," said the junior, " is all that's required." 

"That reminds me," began the presiding senior, "of a little boy, and 
O, he was awfully smart, and he couldn't turn a somersault. There was 
something the matter with him. I don't know what, but something anyway. 
Well, one day his legs w T ere stiff, and he was trying to turn a somersault, 
and he fell down. And his mother tried to show him how, but he couldn't. 
He was awfully smart, and he said if his knees were on the other side of his 
legs, why then he could turn a somersault all right." 

We laughed. 

The story-teller began next. 

" I saw a strange child when I was away for Thanksgiving. She was 
a little girl of dreadfully odd ideas. For one thing she named all her toes ; 
and two of them she always called her Baptist toes. Wasn't that odd ! 
How do you suppose she thought of it?" 

"I suppose those two toes were web-footed toes," said the solemn 

" How strange ! Why do you think so ? " asked the inquiring sophomore 
as the chairs were pushed back. 

G. L. C. 



Passing along one of the College Hall corridors not many days before 
vacation began, one could not but comment on the many "busy" placards 
tacked on the doors. They were there in all varieties, from the most aggres- 
sive form, " Keep out," to the kindly and courteous " Please do not knock," 
the curt and practical " Busy," or the explicit, " Admittance to none." Far 
be it from us to disparage this most necessary custom of warning off visitors ; 
we object not to the habit but to the necessity for it. " Busy" signs are an 
evil that go with rushing through dinner to get to the library and then sit- 
ting up late afterwards, and as such we regret them. This is taking life 
very seriously, and having time for nothing but work. If one sympatheti- 
cally remarks that a friend looks tired, and asks if she has been working 
late, she flashes back, " Well wouldn't you if you had three written lessons 
and a paper before you the very week college closes ? " "I don't care," says 
another weary maiden desperately ; "I shall be home next week, so it makes 
no difference how hard I work now." For most of the girls the last week of 
the fall term is a forerunner of midyears, and brings nearly equal work and 
worry. With what envy do most of us regard the girl who has the art of 
taking life easily. In vain we sigh for a phlegmatic disposition, or even for 
the nonchalance or indifference, feigned or real, which our brothers are wont 
to display when in the trials of examinations. 

Did you ever note a curious fact? The students wdio descend to the 
depths of despair are often those who do the most careful and thorough daily 
work, and have most reason to hope. Yet there is a certain seeming nobil- 
ity about the care-free worker who takes lessons easily and midyears almost 
flippantly, receives a condition pensively, but tells of it with rare and good- 
humored candor. Such indifference has sometimes the look of resolute inde- 
pendence. It is, however, for her harassed sister that we would put in a 
good word. Self-suspicion and distrust of her own capabilities form the 
groundwork of her troubles. Why, she will tell you, with a piteous face, 
she does no better work than Mary — , and Mary — was conditioned last 
year. And look, if you please, at the unflattering criticism on her last 


paper ! To an unprejudiced observer there is no question of the comparative 
merit of this conscientious student and Mary — . But how can ever an 
unprejudiced observer convince the conscientious student? Perhaps it is 
only the old question of admitting a student to the secret of her standing 
should she wish to know her marks. We are not sure that the problem of 
worry, like the labor question, is to be solved by any radical measure. 
Indeed, we are very much of the opinion that there will be girls who con- 
scientiously overwork and yet doubt their abilities just as long as there are 
girls who study. So at the end we give a weary sigh for the incurable pes- 
simism of the human race, and turning our consideration to personal matters, 
we pick up a philosophy notebook and wonder desperately if we can possi- 
bly manage to pass with credit in the coming midyeai's. 


" What," said a girl the other day, " do you get out of belonging to 
the College Settlement?" Was ever question more humorously suggestive 
of the standpoint of the average student? As we are all very much self-ab- 
sorbed, there is a certain danger in throwing stones, yet everyone sometimes 
wakes up enough to comment on the intense and unconscious preoccupation 
of her erring friends. If the settlement question is to be looked at purely 
from a personal point of view, we can still safely retaliate that the work is 
highly satisfactory in taking a girl's mind off her very interesting self. If 
she goes deeply enough into Denison House projects she may even forget for 
a time her worry about passing with credit. She will certainly cease to ask 
if the work is really worth her while. 

There is no doubt, however, that Wellesley College as a whole is inter- 
ested in the settlement. An increasing number of student members is an 
assurance, even if recent active work were none. Just before the holidays 
one hundred dolls were dressed for settlement children, and over $43 was 
taken in from a combined pantomime, doll show, and candy sale in the gym- 
nasium. This is certainly a guaranty of a few Christmas comforts to our 
little sisters in South Boston. Wellesley bears a large share in the support 
of Denison House, and we think that in the future she will live up to her 
record for helpfulness in the past. 



If our confessedly absorbed student can make up to the outside world 
for a brief period, we wish that she would turn her attention to the low state 
of the Free Press. This is the one department in the Magazine to which 
every girl can contribute if she will, with the full assurance of seeing her re- 
marks in print. No unusual literary ability or finished style is necessary for 
the task; only a good pen, a little time, and a few thoughts on any subject 
connected with the college. There isn't a girl who hasn't all three conditions 
occasionally. Even such small public affairs as find, perhaps, inadequate ex- 
pression or notice in other pages of the Magazine, might be freely discussed 
or criticised in that well-meant, little-used institution, the Free Press. 


Most of us would turn prejudiced eyes to an essay on college education 
in a recent periodical, which claims the superiority of travel to study so far 
as practical good is concerned. We will give Mr. Allen the benefit, however, 
of supposing that he confines himself to the consideration of immediate re- 
sults and not of mental training. This is only one of a series of papers 
which freely criticise the defects of collegiate methods, but perhaps ventures 
further than the others into the radical field. We have heard much discus- 
sion of old-fashioned standards, of the utter nonsense of Greek and Latin 
except for a few specialists, the uselessness even of French and German in 
the modern curriculum. We wrestled with a stout forensic on the same 
lines, and still behold us conservative, unprogressive, mediaeval. Perhaps 
this is only a sure evidence of the narrow prejudice and blindness which col- 
lege tends to develop, which travel would eradicate. 


Could we not have another elevator in College Hall? Two years ago 
we returned from vacation with the expectation, caused by report, of finding 
an elevator at the east end, which as yet has not saved us many steps. If 
there were an elevator at that end, many girls would use it who now climb 


the stairs to the third and fourth stories. For does it not seem sometimes 
to be a waste of time to walk the length of the building twice for the sake of 
a ride ? If we had two, also, only one need be used to carry trunks at the 
beginning and the end of the term. Then on our return from the village 
with our pockets, hands, and every available place filled with packages for 
ourselves and friends, we should not have our present experiences. With 
virtuous regard for hygiene we decide to ride in the elevator, which is un- 
loading trunks at the fifth floor. We wait five minutes. Then we are 
cheered to hear the sound of trunks cease and the elevator descend. Joy- 
ously we ring the bell again, but alas for our hopes ! The elevator stops 
at the third floor to take on more trunks. With what feelings we walk up 
many of us know. There are other times also when a second elevator would 
save much time and annoyance. 

C, '98. 


Any lover of books, however generous minded, knows the lonesome 
feeling which accompanies a blank space on the shelf, and the slight pang of 
anxiety about a much-loved volume, no matter how trustworthy the borrower 
may be. Yet many of us have had reason to appreciate the way in which 
members of the faculty often place their books in the library, and allow them 
to be used indiscriminately by large classes. A recognition of this kindness 
and a word of thanks from the student body seems to me not out of place in 
the Free Press. 

A. M. E., '98. 


In the season of pleasant surprises just past we gratefully acknowledge 
that we have had our share. It was our expectation to find the exchanges 
for last month buried under holly and mistletoe and bristling with Christmas 
stories. The possibilities of the Christmas story, as we all ought to know, 
were exhausted a decade or so before the present generation of collegians 
appeared on earth, or at least in college. In view of this fact the expec- 
tations previously mentioned became gloomy and foreboding. The reality 


was startling. Instead of yule logs and youths and maidens running riot 
through the pages, we find holiday numbers with a large proportion of 
serious essays and fiction which, for the most part, shows not even so much 
as a sprig of mistletoe. It is left to the verse to herald the presence of the 
season. Variations of the nativity theme crop up on almost every page. 
Some are in themselves worthy of mention, some otherwise. To all, how- 
ever, we accord honor as being descendants in spirit, if not always in form, 
of the first great Christmas song. On the whole we would modestly express 
our surprise that the college periodicals for the month contain so little that 
is bad. In fact, to speak in medical terms, they seem to be doing as well 
as could be expected. One little grievance, nevertheless, we cannot restrain 
ourselves from airing. Our sense of duty made us victims to eight stories 
with football motifs ! 

The Christmas number of the Yale Courant is much above the average. 
Of the four stories which it contains, each deserves separate mention. Two 
which are especially well told and vigorous are " The Coming of the Great 
Wahmateh " and " Then No More of Thee and Me." The former is an inci- 
dent in the life of a wily medicine man of the plains, and is told humorously 
and without the waste of a breath. The latter shifts even farther west to the 
South Sea Islands, and reproduces vividly the atmosphere of the Mid- Pacific 
where nothing matters particularly. In addition to the prose there is in 
" Mildred Grey " a very pretty imitation of the old ballads. 

The Brown Magazine is chiefly noticeable for the article, " Is Kipling a 
Poet of the First Rank?" The writer makes a clever comparison of Kipling 
and Burns, and finds them alike in many respects. Admirers of Kipling will 
be glad to know that he is not allowed to suffer in this measurement with 
one of the best beloved of English poets. Fiction in this number is 
represented by " A Belated Santa Claus," which is in parts well told, but, 
as a whole, unconvincing. 

In the Christmas Inlander the identity of the Man with the Ii'on Mask 
is again solved for us. The writer of the article has satisfied himself at least 
that the mysterious prisoner who has caused history so much conjecture was 
not a brother of Louis XIV., but the secretary of the Duke of Mantua. 
The " Reminiscences of a Country Town " have in them much of that charm 
which always attracts us to genuine chronicles of child life. " An Escaped 


Convict" and "Jenkins's Junior Hop Girl" are bright little stories which 
keep The Inlander up to its usual high standard in fiction. 

The Amherst Lit. has an able and appreciative article on the late Prof. 
William Seymour Tyler. "Recent Scotch Letters" also deserves notice. 
" A Friend Indeed," in the same number, is the story of a somewhat unsuc- 
cessful attempt to model life on literature. The hero's final and unquotable 
remark awakes a responsive thrill. 

The Vassar Miscellany contains three well told stories, "In the Name 
of Art," "When Vincent Played the Title Role," and "A Romance of 
Christmas Eve." In the last two the engaging young person lends the par- 
ticular charm to the situation. Giovanni, Vincent's scapegrace assistant, 
and the romantic Margorie, otherwise "the Kid," seem very real and 

In the Tennessee University Magazine we notice two very good stories, 
"An Inconsequent Christmas," dealing with college life, and "Her Turnip," 
which has about it a tinge of folklore. 

The Nassau Lit. brings us a leading article on " The Football Situation." 
Noticeable, also, is the review of Mr. Crawford's position in present day 
literature. The best of the stories is, perhaps, "A Rough Road to Repent- 
ance," in which we find what so seldom appeal's in the college magazine, — a 
fairly accurate representation of negro life. 

From cover to cover the Williams Lit. is excellent. There are no 
"solid" articles, but the poetry and fiction are far above the average. The 
legend of the "Great House" is told with power and not a little beauty. 
"The Man Who Was Found" is in setting, story, and character a piece of 
work such as is seldom found in college periodicals. Scarcely less well 
written is the sketch of student life in the Quartier Latin, entitled " Orpheus 
Out-Orpheused." Two of the longer poems demand notice. Both are 
imitations of old forms. "Earl Mar," the ballad of a Christmas tragedy, has 
caught something of the old Scotch spirit, and " Nox Christi," however little 
it may resemble the nativity scene in the old mysteries, is done with great 
skill and sweetness. 

For the Smith Monthly, also, w r e have nothing but praise. An article 
on "Student Life in Berlin," and another on "Hardy, the Realist," claim our 
attention. In fiction, "The Tangled Web We Weave" is told with no little 


force, and is likely to linger in the memory. In "An Errant Quaker" the 
small boy turns up again and is seductive, as he always is when his doings 
are recorded sympathetically. The Contributor's Club provides us with the 
most original and amusing ghost story we are likely to come across in many 
a winter's day reading. Cap'n Lishe's ghost is convincing, and his manner of 
telling the story more than refreshing. 

We clip : — 


When the white snow whirls in flurries 

Through the dark and restless night, 
When the black scud swirls and trembles 

In demon-like delight, 
When the frothing billows toss their heads 

As if in agony, 
Then, Lord, look down in kindness 

On them that sail at sea. 

When the blocks and spars are double-lashed 

And double-reefed the sheets, 
When topsails are clewed snugly 

And guys groan in the cleats, 
When two strong men must turn the wheel, 

When the great white sea-gulls flee, 
Then, Lord, look down in mercy 

On them that sail at sea. 

When spar and sail are swept away, 

And frowning breakers roar, 
When lights gleam o'er the starboard bow 

Upon a rock-bound shore, 
When life boats would be merely toys, 

When call the Sisters Three, 
Then, Lord, look down and pity 

All them that sail the sea. 

— Williams Lit. 



If love were all then would the shadows flee 

And leave your soul, my world, ablaze with light ; 

But after life there falls again the night — 
And with the night? Nay, love, we are not free 
To work our little wills. For you and me, 

Though dark the clouds and sparse the scattered light, 

The way lies open, and we know aright 
The path to follow through the dull To Be. 
Though dear the memory of those few brief days, 

And drear the years without thee and alone, 

We part for time ; and through the empty shows 
Of every day we tread divided ways, 

Alike converging in the weird unknown — 
But keep thy love, for after life, who knows? 

— Nassau Lit. 


Come, sing thou not of summer's charms, 

Of fields and meadows fair, 
Of brooks and woods, of June-time blooms 

And fragrance-ladened air. 

And tell me not of "summer girls," 

Nor August moon's soft rays, 
For he who knows true Christmas cheer 

Is deaf to summer's praise. 

Kind Jove, I beg, a wintry moon, 

A high-backed, open sleigh, 
Warm bear-skin robes, my "Christmas girl," 

And, — a horse that knows the way. 

-Dartmouth Lit. 


Blow, ye dismal, shrieking winds,, 

Finger the blind and shake the door, 
Beat, ye rains, upon the pane, 
Thunder, old ocean, on the shore. 
Phantoms of white 
Gleam in the night, 
Ghostly wraiths of days of yore. 



Oh, that face, so sad and sweet, 

Burning its features into my brain ! 
Hush, was that a wailing voice 

Out in the darkness? No, the rain ! 
Love of the past, 
First and the last, 
Once loved madly but in vain. 

Shriek and howl and rage ye on, 

Elfs of the darkness, storm and fray ; 
Think ye, by your groans and cries, 
Brave souls to humble and dismay? 
O ruddy wine, 
Wine of the Rhine, 
Drive these saddening dreams away. 


Come, fill me a brimming bumper, 
For I've one more toast to drink, 

Ere fair night sinks to her slumber, 
Ere the stars begin to sink. 

Then tip the bumpers upwards, 
Leave not a drop in sight ; 

To one another — an one other, 
Is the toast I drink to-night. 

— Wesleyan Lit. 

— Williams Lit. 


During the past month Brauder Matthews has brought out a new hook 
of sketches, entitled Outlines in Local Color. Incidents of high life and 
low are the themes selected, and the manner of their treatment is at once 
characteristic and fascinating. (" Outlines in Local Color," by Brander 
Matthews. Harper and Bros., New York.) 

My Father as I Recall Him, by Mamie Dickens, is at last published 
in book form, after having appeared serially in the Ladies' Home Journal 


some time past. The book, of necessity, has a strong personal flavor, and this 
it is that gives it its chief charm. The man Dickens, with all his individu- 
alities, is drawn by a pen whose wielder at once admired and adored the sub- 
ject. The whole is a production that lovers of Dickens cannot fail to wel- 
come. (" My Father as I Recall Him," by Mamie Dickens. E. P. 
Dutton and Co., New York.) 

Hugh Wynne, Free Quaker, by Dr. S. Weir Mitchell, is said to be 
one of the most popular books of the past year. A recent advertisement 
of the publishers, the Century Co., announcing the twenty-fifth thousand, 
seems to bear out the rumor. The book is an historical novel of the Ameri- 
can Revolution, and deals with the social life of Philadelphia at that time, 
and with the stir of the camp and battle. The effect of the style is exceed- 
ingly simple, and the character sketching is subtle. (" Hugh Wynne, Free 
Quaker," by Dr. S. Weir Mitchell. Century Co., New York.) 

McClure's Magazine, as well as the Pall Mall, is running as sequel to 
"The Prisoner of Zenda," " Rupert of Hentzan." Gibson is to do the illus- 
trating. It is to be feared that the English publication may cause the 
American periodical to suffer in sales, if the story prove as exciting as 
" Zenda," since it issued the opening chapter of the serial one month earlier 
than did McClure & Co. 

The Atlantic for January contains a short story entitled " Company 
Manners," by Florence Converse. Entrance to the press of such a standard 
publication as the Atlantic Monthly shows that the young author of " Diana 
Victrix " is fulfilling her promise of strength as foreshown in her longer 

Thomas Nelson Page has begun a new serial, "Red Rock, A Chronicle 
of Reconstruction," in the January Scribner. Reginald de Koven also 
has an article in the same magazine on "Some Tendencies of Modern 

The January Century contains the opening chapters of " The Adven- 
tures of Francais," a serial by S. Weir Mitchell. The story will, in all 
probability, meet with a warm reception if the treatment of the author's 
"Hugh Wynne" argues aught. This latter story has just won a long 
encomium at the pen of Charles Dudley Warner in the Editor's Chair of 
the January Harper. 


The reinstatement of the Tammany party is eliciting remarks from the 
other side in both The Forum for January and in the Review of Reviews for 
the same month. The writer of the former article is Simon Sterne, "a par- 
ticipator," as he calls himself, "in every reform movement undertaken in 
the city of New York from Tweed's day down to and including the advocacy 
of the election of Seth Low as mayor, and sharing with his fellow members 
of the Committee of Seventy of 1894 the responsibility for the election of 
Mayor Strong." He calls his article "The Eeconquest of New York by 
Tammany," and gives as his reason for writing it : "inasmuch as the battle 
of municipal reform must be fought again and again until success is achieved, 
such success, when achieved, can be made permanent only by a clearer un- 
derstanding of, and no illusions about, the causes of the failure of the friends 
of good government in the campaign of 1897. Any contribution to public 
discussion having that end in view must ultimately have beneficial results." 

Wm. Howe Tolman sums up in the Review of Reviews the progress 
made during Mayor Strong's administration. The article is headed " New 
York's Civic Assets," and attempts to show " what New York has gained, in 
the three years of reform rule, that has contributed toward its higher life and 
made it a desirable civic home." The writer occupies himself wholly with 
such a summing up of the good results of reform rule and does not touch in 
the least, as does Mr. Sterne, on the causes operating the defeat of good 
government in the recent campaign. With such a two-sided presentation, 
on the one hand of the evil, on the other of the good in the past municipal 
administration, in New York, a very fair idea of the situation may be 


Dec. 2. — A basket-ball game is played between '98 and 1900, resulting" 
in a victory for '98, with the score of 8 to 4. 

Dec. 4. — President Andrews, of Brown University, lectures at 3.20 on 
" Contemporary European Politics." 

7.30, the officers of the Christian Association receive the members of 
the Association and their friends. 



Dec. 5. — At 11 o'clock, Dr. Tuttle, of Worcester, conducts communion 
in the chapel. 

At 7.30, Mrs. Pettee, of Japan, tells of her work. 

Dec. 6. — The second of the informal recitals by advanced pupils of the 
School of Music is given in the chapel at 3 o'clock. 

Dec. 10. — The election of officers of the Class of 1901 takes place, with 
the following results : president, Jessie Brown ; vice president, Pauline 
Nunnemacher ; recording secretary, Emma S. Seward ; corresponding sec- 
retary, Mary C. Smith; treasurer, Minnie Pappenheimer ; executive com- 
mittee, Alice G. Mansfield, Susan E. Hall, Elizabeth N. Fernald ; facto- 
tums, Agnes T. Smith, Bertha L. Doan. 

Dec. 13. — 7.30, the Agora invites the members of the College to a talk 
by Mrs. Knapp, recently appointed factory inspector of Boston. 

Dec. 15. — Vacation commences, and the College is generally deserted. 


A meeting of the Phi Sigma Fraternity was held Saturday, December 
4. Miss Gertrude Cushing, Miss Josephine Batchelder, '96, Miss Edith 
May, '97, were present at the meeting. The following programme was 
given : — 

Tolstoi's Life and Literary Career . . . Miss Reeve. 

Miss Putnam. 

Miss Oriana Hall. 

Miss Scott. 

Miss Ely. 

Tolstoi's Philosophy and Religion 
Music ..... 

Tolstoi as He Is 
Anna Kare.nina, A Critique 

A regular meeting of the Agora was held December 12, at which the 
following programme was presented : — 
Impromptu Speeches. 

The Financial Recommendations of the Pres- 
ident's Message ..... 
Other Recommendations of the President's 

Helen G. Damon. 

The Trouble in Austria 

Lucy M. Wright. 
Mabel L. Bishop. 



The subject under discussion was the Sweat Shop System. 
Preliminary Paper. 
, " Forces Working Against Sweat Shops" . Carolyn L. Morse. 

The Society then resolved itself into the Central Labor Union. 
Speeches were made : — 

C Miss Barbour. 
\ Miss Towle. 
Miss Rousmaniere. 

For the Cloakmakers 

Against the Cloakmakers 

The regular monthly meeting of the Society Alpha Kappa Chi was 
held Saturday evening, December 4. The following programme was ren- 
dered : — 


1. Recent Discoveries of Archaic Works . E. Ames. 

2. Materials Used, and Application of Color 

to Sculpture . . . . . S. H. Bogart. 


1. Archaic Period 600-480 B.C. 
(1). Introduction. 

a. Circumstances Favorable to the Growth 

of Art in Greece .... G. Chapin. 

b. Influence of Religion. 

Influence of Egypt .... M. Galbraith. 

2. Early Works. 

a. Mycenean (before 1000 B.C.). 

b. Pedimental Sculpture .... H. Carter. 

A meeting of the Shakespeare Society was held Monday evening, 
November 29. Miss Florence Kellogg, '99, was received into the Society. 
The programme for the evening was as follows : — 

I. Shakespeare News .... Alice Cromack. 

II. Paper. The Jew in Elizabethan Drama. 
Shakespeare's Shylock. 
Marlowe's Barabbas . . . Maude Almy. 




Dramatic Representations. 

1. "The Merchant of Venice," 


I., Scene 3. 

Shy lock 


Joanna Oliver. 

Antonio .... 


Rowena Weakley. 

Bassanio .... 


Corinne Wagner. 

2. " The Jew of Malta," Act 


Scene 1. 

Barabbas .... 


Mary Gilson. 

Abigail .... 


Ethel Bowman. 

Abbess .... 


Flora Skinner. 

Friars .... 


( Alice Harding. 
\ Katharine Fuller. 

Nun . . . . . 


Anne Miller. 


Paper. Shylock on the Stage 

Edna Patterson. 


Dramatic Representation, "The Mer- 

chant of Venice, Act II., Scene ] 

Lorenzo . . 


Hilda Meisenbach. 

Jessica .... 


Jessica Sherman. 

Stephano .... 


Grace Frazee. 

Launcelot Gobbo 


Edith Lehman. 


Mrs. Louise McCoy North, B.A., '79, M.A., '82, has an interesting- 
article on " The Logia," in the Christian City for November. 

" The Jew in Literature " is the title of an able paper in the Methodist 
Review, by Ellen A. Vinton, '84. 

Hester Nichols, '84, Elizabeth H. Palmer, '87, Charlotte Hazlewood, '91, 
Alice Wright, '97, are doing graduate work at Yale in Greek and Latin. 
Miss Hazlewood, who was at Yale last year, also, was given a scholarship in 

Mrs. Alice V. Ames Winter, B.A., '86, M.A., '89, is the author of 
some very clever verses which appear in the Century for December. 


Evangeline Hathaway, '90, is teacher of English in the Volkmann 
School for Boys, Boston. Her address is 42 Mt. Vernon Street. 

Clara Bacon, '90, is teaching Mathematics at the Normal College in 
Baltimore, Maryland. 

Sarah K. Harlow, '91, is again assisting Miss Edna A. Hale, Sp., '85- 
'87, in a private school at Tuxedo Park, N. Y. 

Elizabeth E. Morse, who graduated from the School of Art in '91, 
spoke at the institute for art supervisors and teachers, held in Salem, Decem- 
ber 10. Her lecture on "The New Object Drawing," was made particularly 
interesting by the exhibition of work from all grades of schools in Winchen- 
don, Mass., where she has been supervisor for three years. 

Mary Elizabeth Lewis, '91, returned this year to the State University 
of South Dakota, where she holds the chair of English. Miss Lewis went 
there directly from the University of Chicago, where she spent a year in the 
English department of the graduate school. 

Miss Clara Count, '93, is first assistant in the Weymouth High School. 

Elizabeth Hale Peale, '95, is traveling for several months through Cuba 
and Mexico. Her address will be Hassam and Moreno, Ti burcio 14, City 
of Mexico. 

Annie C. Kerr, '96, is teaching in the Greenwich, Conn., High School. 

The engagement is announced of Miss Blanch E. C. Staples, formerly 
'94, and George F. Buck, Harvard, '87. Miss Staples's present address is 
627 North Commerce Street, Stockton, Cal. 

Adah Hasbrouck, '96, is taking a course in Kindergarten in Boston. 

Miss May Woodin, '96, is teaching English in the Buffalo Seminary. 

Mary Esther Tebbetts, '97, is teaching in the public schools of Lynn, 


Mary Isabel Thyng, '97, is teaching in the Hampton Grammar School, 
Hampton, N. H. 


Miriam A. Smith, '97, is teaching in the Misses Porter's School, Mid- 
dletown, N. Y. 

Mabel F. Spaulding, '97, is acting as substitute teacher in German at 
the Chauncy Hall School, in Boston. 

Adelaide Spencer, '97, is teaching in Lexington, Mass. 

Louise I. Wetmore, '97, is studying Kindergarten in Boston. 

Mary Marden, formerly '97, has been elected president of the senior 
class at Pomona College, Cal. 

Agnes L. Bacon, '97, is keeping house for her mother and sister. 
Her address is now 2316 North Calvert Street, Baltimore, Md. 

Annie C. Barnard, '97, is teaching in the Brookfield (Mass.) High 

Carrie M. Davis, '97, is teaching in the New Haven High School. 

Edith Dudley, '97, is teaching in the Northbridge High School. 

M. Josephine Moroney, '97, is student teacher in the Pavvtucket High 

Emma A. Morrill, '97, is teaching in the Chelsea High School. 
Nellie Gr. Prescott, '97, is teaching in Everett, Mass. 

Sydna E. Pritchard, '97, is studying at the Bridgewater (Mass.) Nor- 
mal School. 

The David C. Cook Publishing Company, of Chicago, state that they 
have sold 900,000 copies of "Titus" by Mrs. Florence Morse Kingsley, 
Sp. '76-79. Mrs. Kingsley read from her works at an author's reading in 
New York, on December 10. 

In place of its regular November meeting the New York Wellesley Club 
met with the Association of Collegiate Alumnae on November 6. After 
some business of the Association a report of the National Meeting at Detroit 
was given by Miss Claghorn, followed by a talk on A. C. A. Fellowships by 


Mrs. Bellamy. Dr. Henry Van Dyke then read selections from his works, 
which were enthusiastically received, and the meeting adjourned to informal 

An effort is being made in the New York Wellesley Club to arouse 
interest in child study. All who are interested in child study and child 
training, and are willing to do work on the subject, are asked to communi- 
cate with the President or Secretary of the New York Club. 

The officers of the New York Wellesley Club for the current year are 
as follows : president, Mrs. Henrietta Wells Livermore ; vice president, 
Miss Mary G. Tooker ; secretary, Miss Laura Hamblett Jones; treasurer, 
Miss Annie C. Kerr (Miss Banta resigned) ; chairman of press committee, 
Mrs. Virginia Remnitz ; chairman of the reception committee, Miss Grace 
H. Miller; chairman of college settlement committee, Miss Fannie Louise 

The Wellesley Club of New York held its regular monthly meeting on 
the afternoon of Saturday, December 18, at Sherry's, on 37th Street and 
Fifth Avenue. There was a large attendance, and the first half hour was 
devoted to the transaction of business. A vote of thanks was tendered the 
University Club of New York for having entertained the Wellesley Club in 
November. The president then announced that Mrs. Irvine would be 
present at the annual luncheon in January, and would then address the club 
and its guests. After the business was disposed of Mrs. Livermore intro- 
duced Mrs. Alfred Chester Coursen, congratulating the club upon its oppor- 
tunity of hearing Mrs. Coursen's lecture upon "America's Song Makers." 
Mrs. Coursen illustrated her remarks by the most delightful rendering of 
typical compositions in a rich contralto voice. Her singing of the Indian 
Mide and Folk Songs proved to be of especial interest. She exhibited and 
explained several large-sized copies of Indian picture writing ; the series of 
pictures upon each placard being a song expressed in symbols — usually a 
love song. One of these picture series represents the original of the song so 
beautifully worded by Longfellow in Hiawatha. The pathetic negro melo- 
dies were rendered with such irresistible pathos that the audience begged for 
more than Mrs. Coursen had intended giving, and there was but small time 


left for more modern music. The speaker found time, however, to touch 
upon the work of several of our most gifted composers. After the conclu- 
sion of the lecture a vote of thanks was tendered to Mrs. Coursen, and many 
of her hearers gathered about her to examine the Indian pictures, and to 
discuss with her their favorite song makers. Refreshments were then served. 

The Wellesley Club of New York now shows a membership of over two 
hundred, and its president, Mrs. Henrietta Wells Livermore, of Yonkers, 
N. Y., is very active in promoting the club interests in every way. Regular 
monthly meetings are held, and for each of these some attractive entertain- 
ment is provided. The attendance upon the meetings is increasing rapidly, 
and the president hopes to secure, in time, a permanent home for the club. 

Eight members of the Northfield Wellesley Club met at Mt. Hermon, 
Monday afternoon, November 15. After a social half hour, during which 
refreshments were served, the meeting was formally called to order by Miss 
Bancroft, '92. The question of making some gift to the College was sug- 
gested by a letter from Miss Tufts, written in behalf of the alumna? com- 
mittee. Another letter from Mr. Scudder, of the building committee, 
brought before the Club the possibility of presenting some article of furni- 
ture to the chapel. The suggestion received from Miss Lincoln, secretary 
of the Worcester Club, that the New England clubs make a joint gift to the 
chapel, met with approbation from the Club. At the close of the formal 
meeting, Mrs. Cutler, '84, read a number of representative lyrics from the 
collection " Wellesley Lyrics." Miss Learoyd, '94, sang "A Hobby," and 
the members of the Club joined in the familiar songs, "To Alma Mater" 
and " Alunmre Song." The Wellesley cheer ended the afternoon's enjoy- 

On October 29, the first meeting of the Chicago Wellesley Club was 
held in the Le Moyne Building, 40 East Randolph Street. Miss Ingersoll, 
whose musical talent is well known here, especially in the work of her 
pupils, delivered an illustrated lecture on Paris. The stereopticon afforded 
us a general survey of Paris, and took us to some of the most interest- 
ing historical places in the beautiful city. Incidentally French history was 
reviewed for us. Some of Miss Ingersoll's pupils played selections from 


French composers and others of note. This lecture was provided for the 
club through the kindness of one of the members, Mrs. Charles 

November 27, the Chicago Wellesley Club met as usual in the Le Moyne 
Building at 2.30 p. m. Miss Mary McDowell of the University Settlement 
here met with us to talk to us upon " The Duties of Citizenship." She 
did not attempt to discuss the subject thoroughly, but only in some phases 
relative to the possible influence of educated women, such as Wellesley 
College girls. She impressed us with a sense of our individual responsi- 
bility in helping to create a public sentiment that considers the welfare 
of all the welfare of each and vice versa. Mrs. Caroline Hill of Hull 
House was present. She spoke of the study of economic questions in 
study circles by means of syllabi for the guidance of classes. Miss 
Pitkin spoke of the urgent need of instructing the girls who work in one 
of our large department stores. These girls grow up in entire ignorance 
of the simplest hygienic laws, and for this reason often suffer serious injury. 

December 30 the Chicago Club gave a large reception in honor of Mrs. 
Julia J. Irvine at the home of Mrs. Louise Palmer Vincent, '86, 5737 Lex- 
ington Avenue. Invitations were issued to members of the leading woman's 
clubs, to the heads of preparatory and high schools, and to the members of 
the University faculty. It was the aim of the club to make the Wellesley of 
to-day better known to Chicago people. 


The Christmas parties at Denison House began with that for the Kinder- 
garten on December 23, and the last of the series was held January 7. The 
Christmas tree, carols, and dramatics were principal features of the various 
parties. The younger girls gave two fairies' plays, our boys' club had pre- 
pared a Christmas masque, the older girls gave a short play, and the older 
boys had learned the trial scene from ' ' Merchant of Venice " and the forum 
scene and quarrel scene from "Julius Caesar," — all of which were creditably 
performed. At the parties for the members of the young women's class and 
of the adults' class stereopticon views of pictures of the Nativity were shown, 
appropriate poems read, and special Christmas music rendered. 


The children of the kitchen garden repeated their Christmas fairy play 
at the City Hospital on January 1. Miss Alice Clement, '91, furnished 
music for this occasion and at the Teachers' Club meeting January 10. The 
Busy Bee Club will repeat its play at the Children's Hospital on January 15. 

The boys of Miss Rousmanier's club trimmed a Christmas tree and 
presented it, with toys and candy, to a family of small children in the 

Denison House wishes to acknowledge with sincere gratitude the 
Christmas money, dolls, and other gifts received from Wellesley students 
and friends. 

With Jan. 1, 1898, Miss Mary Kingsbury became head worker of the 
New York Settlement. She has been assistant head worker since September 
1. Miss Kingsbury is a graduate of Boston University, has studied at Col- 
umbia and abroad, and presents special qualifications for her work. The 
Churchman, of December 11, contains an article by Miss Kingsbury 
on St. Margaret's House, Bethnal Green, London. This article was pre- 
pared last summer while studying English settlements, preparatory to her 

Miss Anna Davies, A.B., M.A., of Lake Forest University, has be- 
come head worker of the Philadelphia Settlement, Jan. 1, 1898. Miss 
Davies has also done all the work for a Ph.D. in Sociology at the University 
of Chicago, barring her thesis. She has been resident at Browning Hall, 
London, for six months. 

Miss Myrtle Jones, resident for several months during each of the last 
three years at the New York Settlement, has been acting as temporary head 
worker since September 1. 

The former head, Miss Katharine B. Davis, has a fellowship in Sociology 
at the University of Chicago. 

Miss Julia Farrington continues as assistant head worker. 

Dr. Samuel Lindsay, of the University of Pennsylvania, and Miss 
Margaret Simmons, of Bryn Mawr, have been added to the executive com- 

Miss Vida Scudder spent part of the Christmas vacation at the Phila- 
delphia Settlement. 

Sunday evening lectures are given weekly at the Philadelphia Settle- 


ment. Among the subjects for January are: "Social Unrest," by Cheese- 
man Herrick ; " Famous European Buildings," by Mr. F. M. Mann ; " Rep- 
resentative Government," Prof. J. Q. Adams ; " Children of the Sea," Prof. 
E. G. Conklin. 

The Bryn Mawr students are rendering effective aid in the work of the 
Philadelphia Settlement. Several of them have organized clubs and others 
give assistance at the Saturday morning games for the children. A Thanks- 
giving entertainment also was given at the settlement by some of the girls 
who were not able to go home for the holiday. 

Misses Barbour, Rousmaniere, and Towle, of the Agora, attended the 
Central Labor Union November 7. The meetings of this Union are open 
to residents and friends of the settlement by virtue of the connection which 
the House holds with it through the Federal Labor Union. 

Miss Coman and Rev. Mr. ILryes, of Wellesley, dined at Denison 
House November 10. In the evening they and several residents attended 
the Twentieth Century Club, when Dr. Washington Gladden spoke on the 
"Ethics of Luxury." Miss Dudley took part in an interesting discussion 
which followed. Others who spoke were Mr. B. Fay Mills, Mr. Robertson, 
of England, and Miss Ames. 

Mrs. McBride spoke at the Women's Club, November 12. The 
monthly social of this club was held at the home of one of the members. 

On November 16 Miss Dudley and Miss Coman attended the ball of 
the Women Clerks' Benefit Association, held at Music Hall. This associa- 
tion, which has been gradually but steadily growing in interest and strength 
during the past two years, has had in Miss Dudley and Miss Pierce, a 
former resident, two earnest friends and wise counsellors. 

Through the kindness of Wellesley students and other friends in the 
city, the settlement furnished a number of Thanksgiving dinners for neigh- 
borhood families. We desire to express to the college girls the gratitude 
which we and those who received the dinners, very keenly felt for their 

The Saturday Afternoon Kindergarten Club has been organized, with 
Miss Chapin, a Brookline kindergartner, Miss Aymar, and Miss Louise 
Wetmore, '97, as leaders. Two Wellesley girls assist each week. The 
membership of the club will doubtless be larger than in the past, and it is 


hoped that with the present working force fifty children can be successfully 
managed and entertained. 

Miss Dudley, Miss Coman, several residents and college students met 
at the Bureau of Labor on November 29, to receive instructions from Mr. 
Wadlin in regard to the tenement investigation, which is to be carried on 
under the auspices of the Twentieth Century Club. 

Miss Dudley spoke at the annual conference of the Massachusetts 
Girls' Friendly Society in St. Paul's Chapel, on the "Need of a Consumers' 
League in Boston." 

Miss Florence Converse is undertaking the supervision of one of the 
fairy plays to be given by a girls' club during the holidays. Miss Converse 
expects to come into residence about the middle of the month. 

Miss Carol Dresser, '90, has accepted the position of head worker at 
Elizabeth Peabody House. 

Miss Fiske, '92, has taken charge of a division of the Saturday morn- 
ing kitchen gardens. 

Miss Hill, '93, is drilling several of the clubs in Christmas carols. 

Miss Bertha Marshall, Wellesley Sp. '96-7, has accepted a scholarship 
at the settlement for the year. Miss Marshall has just arrived in Boston. 

Mr. Balch, of Jamaica Plain, has been chosen treasurer of the executive 
committee in place of Mrs. Mary Kehew, who has held that position since 
the settlement was opened. 

Miss Cornelia Warren, of the executive committee and general treas- 
urer of the Association, is abroad for the winter. Her secretary, Miss 
Lucy Morse, 67 Mt. Vernon Street, looks after all her settlement business. 

Miss Florence Wilkinson, '92, is in residence at the University of 
Chicago Settlement, 4638 Gross Avenue. Miss Wilkinson is also teaching 
in the Hyde Park High School. 

Mrs. Caroline W. Montgomery, '87, is vice president of the Woman's 
Club, at the University of Chicago Settlement. This club has members of 
six different nationalities. 

Mrs. Caroline Miles Hill, formerly Instructor in History, is with her 
husband in residence at Hull House, Chicago. She also has a history class 
at the University of Chicago Settlement, and is chairman of the vacation 
schools section in the A. C. A. 


New York city has fourteen settlements. Mr. Richard Watson Gilder, 
speaking of the work centering therein, says, "It is so invaluable that I 
wonder how we ever got along without it." 

The Hull Street Settlement, Baltimore, is greatly in need of a larger 

The settlement in connection with St. Stephen's Church, Boston, has 
been opened on Decatur Street, in the new parish house. Rev. Mr. Brent, 
who spent the summer in England with Canon Gore, made a special study 
of the methods of the English settlements. 

The Roadside Settlement of Des Moines, Iowa, is the social endeavor 
of the King's Daughters Circles. 

Two entire houses and part of a third are now occupied by Hiram 
House, Cleveland. 

There are two church settlements, Westminster House and Welcome 
Hall, in Buffalo, N. Y. 

The Goodrich Social Settlement in Cleveland is the first American 
settlement to possess, at the time of its organization, a building of consid- 
erable size constructed especially for its use. 

Prof. Graham Taylor, in addition to his duties in the Congregational 
Theological Seminary and as warden of Chicago Commons, has assumed 
charge of the Neighborhood Church without any salary, until the church 
shall be on its feet financially. 

The Willard " Y" Settlement, 11 Myrtle Street, Boston, was dedicated 
November 16. 

America has seventy settlements, England thirty-eight, Scotland six, 
India one, Japan two. 


Morris-Rothschild. — In New York City, Dec. 23, 1897, Miss 
Constance Lily Rothschild, '96, to Mr. Ira Nelson Morris. 

Dunn-Fordham. — In Scranton, Pa., Dec. 21, 1897, Miss Augusta P. 
Fordham, formerly '98, to Mr. Arthur Dunn. 



Dec. 7, 1897, in Marshall, Mich., a son, Arthur Maxson, Jr., to Mrs. 
Sarah Bixby Smith, '94. 

Nov. 24, 1897, in Worcester, Mass., a daughter, Edith Evelyn, to 
Mrs. Winifred Hill Sargent, '95. 


Jan. 4, 1898, in Danversport, Mass., the Eev. Charles F. Holbrook, 
father of Elizabeth Lovell Holbrook, '97. 

[N. B. — All material for the Alumnae department must be in the hands 
of the editor by the last day of the month.] 






Lenox waists 

Fisk, Clark & Flagg, Makers 


Ties, Stocks, Belts, 
Collars, Cuffs. and 
Umbrellas for Women 

KU 1 509 Wash'n Street 

1111 1 BOSTON, MASS. 

323 and 325 Washington Street. 

454 Boylston Street, corner Berkeley Street. 


PHotograpniG supplies, Cameras. 

Etc., of Every Description. 

i2S-page Catalogue on application. 


Our Stock 

Is constantly in touch wif-h 

Intercollegiate Bureau and Registry. 


Complimentary C 




If it's new w< 

s, Rel 
1, Ecoi 

jifts, all p 


I Gifts, $ 

d Prizes, 

2 have 



$1 to $10. 
2 to $100. 

50 cents to $3. 


%: Co., 

Cotrell & Leonard, 

472 to 478 Broadway, 
Albany, N. Y. 


Caps and Gowns 


A. Sto 

well c 

American Colleges. 

Mr Winter Street - Boston, Mass. 

IHus'rated Catalogue and Particulars on Application- 





Fancy Biscuits. 



Pickles, etc. 

Every Requisite 
Dainty Lunch 

for a 


Cobb, Bates & Yerxa Co's, 

680 Washington Street, 

Miss M. F. Fisk, 

BJo. 44 Xeniple Place, Boston. 

Wishes to announce to the Young Ladies that she has received 
her Fall and Winter Stock of 

Velveteen and 

French Flannel Waists. 

They are in Plain, Striped, and Plaid Effects, and are in beautiful shades of Red, Green, 
Purple, Brown, and Black. The style is very attractive, and the fit perfect, as they have 
been made on Miss Fisk's special chart. Miss Fisk would be greatly pleased to have you 
examine them, sending you all a cordial invitation to do so. 

Something NeW in Stationery, Prescriptions Accu rately Compounded . 

WELLESLEY FLAG. Call and see it. 

A1SO Confe d cUo f n B s ake, " S "* ^^ StORY & CuTTER, Shattuck Building-. Wellesley. 




Ian* Viriei r of FANCY BOXES & BASKET*. 

suitable for PRESENTS. 

J^pP \ \ 146 TREMONT ST. 



When in Need of. . . 

Pure Drugs, Chemicals, 
Standard Patent Medicines, 
Toilet Articles, 
Perfumery, etc., etc., 

Call at 

0. A. Gould's Pharmacy, 

Partridge's Building-, Wellesley. 

Our Hot Chocolate with Cream is Delicious. 


Wellesley Preparatory, 


For circular address the Principals, 



To cut down your school expenses. Look ! ! ! 

Students' Paper, 25 cts. per lb. 
Students' Covers, 20 and 25 cts. each. 
Students' ("T.&M.Co.") Pencils, 35 cts. doz. 
Students' "Sterling" Steel Pens, 60 cts. gross. 
Engraved Plate and 100 Calling Cards, $1.50. 

Kngraved Die, ioo Sheets Paper and j 
ioo Envelopes, Finest Quality \ 


All Students' Supplies equally low. Always use our A=A 
Waterman's "Standard " Fountain Pen. 


Stationers Engravers Printers, 

12 Milk Street, Boston. 

F. DIEHL, JR., & CO., 

Livery and Boarding 


Baggage Transferred to and from Station 

Orders Promptly Attended To. 

Telephone No. 16-2. 

'Wright & Ditson, 

The Leading Athletic Outfitters or New England. 


Golf, Basket Ball, Fencing, and 
the Gymnasium. 

Special Attention given to Orders by Mail. 

Wright & Ditson, 

344 Washington Street, Boston, Mass. 
WE make a specialty of 

Winter Weight 

Walking Boots... 

Box Cair, Willow Calf. 

Rubber-sole Gymnasium Shoes 

A Full Line of Rubbers. 


No. 3 Clark's Block, 
IVatiek, Mass. 


The Dana Hall School, 


Pupils are prepared for regular or for special 
courses at Wellesley College. 

Price for Board and Tuition, $500 for the 
school year; Tuition for day pupils, $125. 

For further information address the Principals : 

Julia A. Eastman. 

Sarah P. Eastman. 



and all the 

Popular Shapes for Young Ladies 

A large assortment on Men's 
Shaped Lasts. 

Gymnasium and all styles of Athletic 
Shoes a specialty. 

Prices Reasonable. 
Discount to the Faculty and Students of Wellesley. 

T. E. Moseley & Co., 

469 Washington Street, Boston. 

Tie wellesley steam Laundry 

will call at the 

Main Building, Norumbega, Freeman 
and Wood Cottages ; collect Tuesday- 
noon, deliver Saturday afternoon. Will also 
call at the Eliot; collect Monday morning, 
deliver Thursday afternoon. 

All work guaranteed to be well done. No bleach 
or acid used. Clothes dried out of doors, weather 
permitting. None but the best of supplies used and 
the best kind of work done with practically no wear. 
A fair trial generally makes a patron. 

J. T. MELLUS, Proprietor 

Kent Place School 
for Girls, 

Summit, New Jersey, 

Hamilton W.Mabie, 

Application may be made to the 

Mrs. Sarah Woodman Paul. 

Junius W. Hill, 

(Leipsic, 1S60-1S63.) 

For the past thirteen years Professor of 
Music in Wellesley College, and Director 
of the Wellesley College School of Music, 



At his Studio in Boston, 

154 Tremont Street. 

Specialties. — The Art of Piano-playing, Organ, 
Harmony, and Voice Culture. Correspondence so- 
licited. Circulars sent on application to any address. 



Union Teacoers' Hgenoiss of Pmerica. 

Rev. L. D. BASS, D.D., Manager. 

Pittsburg, Pa.; Toronto, Can.; New Orleans, La. ; New York, 

N.Y.; Washington, D.C.; San Francisco/Cal.; Chicago, 

111.; St. Louis, Mo., and Denver,[Colorado. 

There are thousands of positions to be filled. We had over 
8,000 vacancies during the past season. Unqualified facilities 
for placing teachers in every part of the United States and 
Canada, as over 95 per cent of those who registered before' Au- 
gust secured positions. One fee registers in nine offices. Ad- 
dress all applications to SALTSBURY, PA. 

Best Work. 

Lowest Prices. 

Insignia, Badges, Society Stationery. 

The Bailey, Banks & Biddle Company has as- 
sembled exceptional facilities for the prompt 
execution of orders for Insignia, Badges, and 
Society Stationery. This company owns proba- 
bly the most complete library in the United 
States on the subject of Heraldry. With such 
wealth of authority constantly at hand, accuracy 
is absolutely insured. 

Patrons may feel equal confidence in the cor- 
rectness and taste of Society Stationery pre- 
pared by this house. 

Tfye Bailey, fiaqKs I Biddle Company, 

Jewelers, Silversmiths, Stationers, 




Via Fall River and Newport. 

The Famous Steamboats of this Line, the 


are substantially alike in design, appliances, finish, and fur- 
nishings, and the perfection of their service in every depart- 
ment has no superior in transportation construction. 

Frank Wood, 

352 Washington Street, Boston. 

Telephone, Boston 273. 

Full Count. Prompt Delivery. 

The Route traversed by the Fall River Line is unsur- 
passed in attractive marine features and surroundings. 

Special Vestibuled Express Train leaves Boston 
from Park Square Station. 


G. P. A., N. Y., N. H.;& H. R. R. (0. C. System), 0. P. A., Fall River Line, 
Boston. New York. 

L. H. PALMER, Boston Pass'r Agt., 
No. 3 Old State House, Boston. 

Perfect Comfort 

For women and positive style. That's what we studied 
for. Nothing to pinch or hurt. 

TheH. H. "TuttleShoe" 

is made on men's lasts. Has that graceful outside 
swing that gives the little toe breathing room. Double- 
soled calf for those who want heavy shoes. Lighter 
grades for others. $4 to $8 is the price. Discount to 
Students and Faculty. 

H. H. TUTTLE & CO., 

Washington St., cor. Winter Street. 



New York Infirmary for Women and Children. 

'THE Thirty-second Annual Session opens October 
1,1897. Four years, Graded Course. Instruc- 
tion by Lectures, Clinics, Recitations and practical 
work, under supervision in Laboratories, and Dis- 
pensary of College, and in New York Infirmary. 
Clinics and operations in most of the City Hcspitals 
and Dispensaries open to Women Students. For 
Catalogues, etc., address 

321 East 15TH St., New York. 

H. H. CARTER & CO., 

Stationers ^ Engravers 


20 per cent Discount 


Made by Wellesley College Students. 

5 Somerset St. (near Beacon), 


19 Bromfield Street - Boston, Mass. 

Artists' Materials. 



Christmas, Easter, Valentine 
and Birthday Gifts, etc 

Usual Discount to Students. 

Joel Goldthwait & Company, 

Have just opened and are now ready to show 
a large and very fine line of 

Scotch • Axminsters, • English • Wiltons • and • Brussels, 

With a full stock of 

Domestic Wiltons, Brussels, Axminsters, 
Velvets, Tapestries and Ingrains. 

The Styles and Colorings adapted to the present styles of Furnishings. 

Wtear Corahill. 

163 to 169 Washington Street, Boston, mass. 

Women's and Misses' 

Blanket Wraps 

For the Nursery. 
For the Sick Room. 
For the Bath. 

For Steamer Traveling. 
For the Railway Carriage. 
For Yachting. 

For Men, Women, Children, and the 
Baby, $2.75 to $35, with Hood and 
Girdle complete. 

Blanket Wraps 
Flannel Wraps 
Cheviot Wraps 
Bath Wraps . 
Bath Slippers 
Golf Waists . 
Flannel Waists 
Cheviot Waists 
Sweaters . . 
Pajamas . . 
Union Undergarments 
Golf Capes 
Mackintoshes to order 
Cravenettes to order 
Walking Gloves 
Driving Gloves . . 
Golf Gloves . . . 
Bicycle Gloves . . 

$5.00 to $15.00 Satin or Silk Stocks 

10.00 " 24.00 Hunting Stocks 

6.50 " 13. 00 Riding Cravats 

8.50 " 12.00 String Tics 

1.00 " 1.50 Stick Pins . . 

5.00 " 9.00 Sleeve Links . 

5.00 " 9.00 Sleeve Buttons 

5.00 Collar Buttons 

J. 00 " 6.00 Umbrellas . . 

4 So " 16.00 Abdominal Bands 

2.50 " 6.75 Woolen Knee Caps 

15.00 Fleecy Lined Bed Hose 

10.00" 37.50 Couch Covers 

10.50 " 32.00 Traveling Rugs 

2.00 Plush Rugs . 

2.50 Sleeping Robes 

2.00 Colored Dolls 

1. 25 
■S° to 

•35 " 
.50 " 
.50 " 

1. So 

1 50 


5 i.*S 




Humber Bicycles, $100.00 to $106.00. 

Noyes Bros., 

Washington and Summer Streets, Boston, Mass., U. S. A. 

M. R, Warren Co. 


Engravers and 



Pens, Ink, Pencils, 

Pocketbooks, Card Cases, Playing Cards, 

Fountain Pens, Stylographic Pens, 


Students' Notebooks, 

Address, Engagement, Shoppingand Visiting Books 

Paine's Duplicate Whist, 


Everything in Writing Materials. 


No. 336 Washington Street, Boston. 


!. H. 1 

Ladies' and Children's 


Our Display of 

Coats, Suits, Wraps, Furs, Waists, 
Rainproof Garments, Tea Gowns, 
and Silk Petticoats is the handsom- 
est and most complete we have ever 
shown, including our own direct im- 
portation of 

Paris and Berlin Novelties. 

Correct Styles. Moderate Prices. 

Nos. 531 and 533 Washington Street, 


Telephone 2254. 

Frank Wood, Printer, Boston.